The Eraser's Journey
by Mr.Mosevic
Summary: The pro hero known as Eraserhead wasn't born a hero. He too had to start small. Society is just stabilizing again and heroes are needed to keep the peace. Sometimes as heroes, sometimes as vigilantes. Aizawa Shota is caught between these two ideologies. Hero course student by day, vigilante by night. This is the story of how he became Eraserhead.
1. Chapter 1: A Piece of Gum

A Piece of Gum

"Why do you want to become a hero?" The examiner droned for approximately the hundredth time today. Rolling the question around in his mouth like a piece of gum he'd been chewing on for hours: tough, chewy and devoid of all taste.

"Huh?" The boy fidgets, his eyes darting around the plain office. "Why you say?"

"Come now, there's no need to be shy, you surely have a splendid reason." The principal piped up.

And sure enough the kid in front of him who was just nervously fidgeting now goes all bright-eyed and sits up straight.

For a moment the examiner hopes he will hear something different, something that would give that stale piece of gum some taste again.

Alas the boy starts gushing about his favourite heroes and their heroic deeds, their coolness and whatever.

Sighing inwardly the examiner tunes out and turns to the papers lying on the desk.

The kid has the quirk, some kind of pressure manipulation and certainly the academic requirements are met but-,

He tunes in again to hear the kid conclude his speech by saying he wants to be like his idol: dashing, cool-looking, gallant and altruistic. Repeatedly mentioning Steel-Jaq as his favourite: The new up-and-comer, the rising star fresh out of hero school and into the world of heroics, the agencies pushing him into the limelight as the "new generation hero" instilling into the young populace that _"_ _you can do it too"_.

He can't help but think it in the voice of Steel-Jaq from that horrendous TV commercial strategically placed in between the other ads during the Saturday morning anime. Worst thing was his own son had watched it and sure enough a few days later he was running around with the new action figure of the guy. _Expensive piece of crap._

In the beginning, Steel-Jaq had been that idol. The humble country boy coming to the big city and realising his dream through his own strength. A story straight out of a shōnen manga, perfectly staged by corporate bigwigs and their greedy ambitions.

But even kind underdogs are not saints in the face of the temptations offered by such a lofty position in the spotlight. Especially for a starry eyed boy drunk on success with his horizons intentionally kept narrow. With fame came money, with money careless spending and so the downward spiral into debauchery.

It started with fast cars, expensive watches, designer clothes then the rumours surfaced. Rumours about lavish parties thrown in soaring penthouses. Rumours about women, alcohol, drugs.

Tabloid magazines and paparazzi preyed like hungry hyenas on the boy, eager to find anything they could make an article about and tear his reputation to shreds.

One of these paparazzi had gone too far in his pursuit of material and in doing so earned himself an all inclusive stay at the General Hospital in Shibuya along with a scar on his pulverized jaw that bore an uncanny resemblance to Steel-Jaq's trademark steel knuckles.

Nobody liked paparazzi and the government preferred the image of their "influencer of the youth" intact to justice being served. Society was just stabilizing again after all.

A couple of commercial stunts were pulled, charity events thrown, Jaq went into rehab and everything was swept under a rug worth millions of yen.

And it had worked. The corporations got the one thing they ever cared about: profits, the government could paint its pretty picture and parade it to the public again and Steel-Jaq was out on the streets and saving people right in the middle of the limelight. At least for as long as it is profitable and until his popularity passes -which it inevitably will- and the focus shifts to the newest corporate puppet emerging from backstage with glorious fanfare.

A sharp elbow to the ribs from his colleague violently ripped him from his musings. Apparently the boy had finished and now sat there even more uncomfortable than before, waiting for a reply.

"Well," the examiner cleared his throat, "as the principal said: a splendid reason." The boy visibly relaxed. "Now, would you please leave the room for a minute? We would like to discuss your application."

"Y-y-yes of course!" he shot up from his seat and stormed out of the door,

"He has potential." The principal turned to his colleagues. "Vigorous and youthfully determined. Exactly what we need. Don't you think?"

"Yes sir."

 _What_ _ **you**_ _need for the school's reputation at least._

"Quirk applicable in both villain and rescue scenarios, grades are at a 85 percent average." The other examiner pulled on her tie lightly to loosen it. _It_ _ **has**_ _been a long day._ "I think he'd be a great addition to this year's freshmen."

"Indeed." Principal Kobayashi clapped his hands together. "What do _you_ think?"

Years of experience in the hero industry and thousands upon thousands of interviews had honed the examiner's eyes. And in this boy's future, try as he might, he could not see anything beyond mediocrity. He would graduate, find a job at a reasonably good agency at which save for the odd villain he would only deal with petty offences and after a few years fall into a rut. Numbed by routine and dreams he never achieved. _Ugh, what am I thinking?_ He shook his head.

Exhaustion warped his thoughts. Poor boy hadn't done anything to be labelled like that. His intuition had seldomly been proven wrong, but there was always the odd one out. _I hope he'll prove me wrong._

"I concur with my colleague."

"Very well then." The principal pressed a button on the intercom. "Send the boy in again!"

He didn't think it possible to be even more nervous than the boy already had been but there he was: practically shaking on the cushioned chair.

The principal chuckled. "Relax young man. After careful consideration I can safely say that we would be delighted to have you."

The boy beamed at this, smiling and thanking them profusely to which the examiner offered a stiff smile in response.

"You will be hearing from us in the near future."

* * *

After he had left the room the two examiners sighed. "Thank god the next one's the last." They had been interviewing for 5 hours now, with only a short break for a can of coffee and a quick smoke. Winter days were short and night was already creeping across the sky, save for the dash of orange across the horizon as the sun vanished. He longed for a glass of an afterwork beer and the warm embrace of his bed.

"Alright, send in the last one." The examiner droned through the intercom whilst pulling out the file for the next kid.

 _Lets see: Aizawa Sh_ _ō_ _ta, fifteen, went to Mos Espa municipal middle-school, Tatooine ward, outstanding grades, quirk-_ he paused. "Hey," he nudged his colleague, "look at this-"

The door opened slowly, a young man stepping through and closing it again. Tall and lean with black unkempt hair that reached his shoulders. Bloodshot eyes surrounded by dark circles. Dressed in simple jeans and a grey shirt, looking bored half to death and pale enough to already be.

"Hmph." the headmaster voiced his distaste towards the boy and snatched the file out of the examiner's hand. His expression darkening as he read about the boy's origin.

The young man strode silently over to the chair.

"Sit-"

"Sit down please." The headmaster interrupted, apparently wanting to interview the boy himself. The two examiners shared a glance and shrugging.

"State your name please."

"Aizawa Shōta."

"Why do you want to attend at UA high?"

"Because it's the closest one to home."

"How did you hear about our school?"

"Flyers."

"What is your exam score average?"

"92%"

"What is your quirk?"

"Emitter type, disables Quirks for as long as I have the target in visual range."

A long pause followed the barrage of questions, as the others in the room processed the information. _A powerful quirk, if not as showy as others. Extremely powerful if used correctly._ The principal continued grilling the boy but he seemed unfazed, replying tersely and respectfully. All the other kids that had attended today had been rosy-cheeked bundles of nerves, all stutters and cold sweat. The Aizawa boy sat there like a statue, expressionless and calm.

The others were energetic, ambitious young men and women full of potential. Bright eyes looking towards an even brighter future. This generation's new heroes. Model students, model "hero-eggs" and even better poster girls and boys. Posters on which you could never fit Aizawa on. He was as lethargic as a cat on a summer afternoon and of unremarkable character. _At first glance at least._

Under that image of the silent boy, behind the black pools of his eyes blazed ambition, red hot like iron fresh out of the forge ready to be struck and molded into...

Into something that would remain to be seen. His eyes could see potential but not the future. The gears of his mind had started turning as soon as he had caught the slightest vestige of that burning heat and they only increased in speed as more and more of it had surfaced, many scenarios playing out in front his mind's eye. Among them, turning down this boy's application always played out as a big mistake.

Clearly the principal didn't care for him one bit, from his appearance to his origins and mostly because this kid could never become a the "new generation hero" every school seemed to want to desperately have in their roster nowadays. He only cared about the schools reputation and that meant producing charismatic, inspiring and successful heroes.

By now the principal had run out of questions and patience. The boy still sat there.

"Well I think we are ready to conclude this interview." He cleared his throat. " We are sorry-"

"We are sorry, but could you please leave the room for a minute to let us discuss?"

Aizawa nodded and silently left the room.

"What are you doing examiner?"

"What are _you_ doing Mr. Kobayashi? You were about to just turn down that boy without conferring with us."

"Is there a discussion necessary? Look at him," He pointed towards the door Aizawa had left out of, "he's a street urchin. I won't admit him to my school."

 _ **His**_ _school? What a puffed up son of a..._ "Respectfully Mr. Kobayashi you hold a big portion of the shares, but this, like every hero-school is a joint project. The other part of which is the government. You get to decide where the trees get planted on the campus. **I** , who represents the Department of Heroics in this affair get to decide who gets accepted and who does not. And I have deemed this boy more than adequate to enroll in UA's hero-course.

"But-"

"Mr. Kobayashi, I do not care for his appearance, nor his place of residence. His grades are well above average, his quirk is powerful. The decision is final."

Principal Kobayashi's opened his mouth to reply, thought better of it and remained silent. A vein had popped up on his right temple and he was beginning to turn red. After a moment of eye-contact he set his jaw and turned away, huffing. "Fine, do what you want."

"I will." he pressed the button on the intercom. "Send him in again."

Again Aizawa entered the room and sat down on the chair without so much as a word.

"Well Mr. Aizawa, after careful consideration we have decided to let you attend UA's entrance exam and are hopeful towards a bright future."

"Thank you very much." He stood up and bowed before the committee. You could barely see it but there was the slightest hint of excitement in his eyes.

"Wait just a moment Mr. Aizawa." The examiner stopped him. And rolled around the piece of gum in his mouth, which now seemed to have acquired taste again. Aizawa turned around to face him. "There's one last question."

"Why do **you** want to become a hero?"

* * *

 **A/N: This is the first ever fanfiction I have written. Constructive criticism is very much appreaciated, as English isn't my first language. Thanks for reading!  
**


	2. Chapter 2: Changes and Uncertainties

Changes and Uncertainties

"U.A. High school." Shōta stood before the ostentatious gates to the campus, looking up at the sign above, as other students passed him by. A harsh wind had been blowing this morning, nipping at the part of his face he hadn't buried in his muffler. The other students rushed by him, either urged on by the cold or nervousness.

'Practical Exam Day' A big sign had been posted up on each side of the gate. The day had finally come.

Shōta was now among the four hundred that would take part in the physical skill exam. Out of which only thirty eight will be allowed to pass and enroll in the hero course. This year there were two students -as they had been informed in a letter- who would get in on recommendation. Eliminating the need to partake in any sort of exam.

Again, the wind blew and Shōta pulled his coat tighter around him. He turned around for one last look at the cityscape of Mustafar awash in the light of a crisp January morning and hurried inside.

* * *

The spacious auditorium buzzed with the sound of conversation, chairs scraping on the floor, the odd laugh and U.A. personnel loudly coordinating the procedure. Shōta slouched on the hard seat of his folding chair, elbows on his knees. When he sat down on the rusty thing, he had leaned on the back support making it croak in such agony that he preferred sitting uncomfortably to the possibility of the chair collapsing beneath him.

The room was now slowly filling up.

Agitated chatter reverberated against the arched roof.

"What do you think we'll have to do?"

"Will we have to fight?"

"Who will we have to fight?"

"Teachers? Other heroes?"

"Dammit, where's the bathroom?"

"Would this be pure combat prowess that was graded?"

As with most activities in the U.A. Curriculum, only vague information was provided on what the skill test would entail. The letter read: "-and the week after the interviews -should you be allowed to partake- you are required to undertake the practical skill exam, where your heroic capabilities will be put to the test."

Followed by three pages worth of small print detailing what they would and would not be liable to. Ranging from surface wounds to third degree burns, bone fractures, loss of limbs and worse.

Judging by the uniforms, there were students here from all over Tokyo. Shōta recognized among them a group of kids from a Nabooian middle school of which the delinquent scene used to have -and still probably has- beef with Shōta's school's delinquents. He remembered the face of one of the kids. About three months ago he had gotten into a fight with him when he, along with a couple of other brick heads, had jumped Shōta and his friends after school.

He also remembered how the face of that kid looked after Shōta had erased his quirk and punched him so hard he had sent him barreling into a trashcan.

The chair next to Shōta groaned in mortal peril as another kid sat down on it obscuring his line of sight towards the delinquent with his bulky frame. The new student had smooth gray skin and gray hair that was gathered into a neat ponytail behind his perfectly rectangular head. Everything about him was blocky, from his shoes to huge hands that poked out from the sleeves of his uniform sweater.

He met Shōta's gaze with his half lidded eyes and nodded ever so slightly which Shōta reciprocated.

After a couple minutes of U.A. personnel struggling to herd the last few kids onto their seats, the lights dimmed and everybody turned to a stage at the other end of the room. Two great red curtains vanished into the walls and spotlights flashed on, illuminating the center of the stage.

Behind a raised dais stood the rotund principal, his balding head glistening through the oily comb-over. He stood still there for a moment, giving the whole crowd a once-over as if waiting for something. A few silent moments passed before one of the personnel that stood on the sidelines picked up the prompt and started clapping. One by one the other people in the room joined him in his strained enthusiasm and clapped along. Shōta rested his chin on his hands and sighed.

The principal smiled heartily and basked in the applause for a bit longer than he should have before quieting everybody with a casual wave of his hand.

"Welcome everybody," His voice crackled out of the speakers, "As you all know, I am the principal of this school: Kobayashi Futoshi. I hereby welcome you and wish you good luck on the practical exam!" He stepped down, bowing. Again the crowd was silent -Shōta heard someone ask "That's it?"- until the same employee from before had to animate everybody to applaud again. The kid next to Shōta closed his eyes and shook his head as he lazily clapped his angular palms together.

As the room fell silent again and the principal left the stage a familiar man entered from backstage.

The tired looking examiner from Shōta's interview now stood on stage. Hunching over the dais he set a paper cup down on it and sorted a few papers before speaking through the microphone.

"Er... well, again welcome all." He wheezed, "I'm Haraki from the Department of Heroics, educational branch, pleased to meet you all.

As I'm sure, you are all itching to get started but there are a few details that need to be made clear as part of the practical skill exam. Let's see..."

He mumbled for a moment before pressing a button on the dais. A projector that hung off the ceiling sprung to life, projecting a blank rectangle of white on the wall behind Haraki.

"Now which was it..." Another button was pressed, the projector made a precarious clicking sound and the image changed.

It now showed two figures, stylized representations of heroes.

The right one had huge arms and was currently grappling another figure with horns. Above it written in big letters: Villain Enforcement.

The left one had hoses for hands and shielded a woman and a child as it put out a fire. Above it the text read: Rescue and Disaster Response.

"There's been a change in how the school system works. Used to be there were the two above mentioned specialized courses to choose from. However it's the government's assessment that a hero should be able to respond to any situation. Be it rescuing people, minimizing damage from disasters and subduing villains so..."

Click.

The image changed into one figure which protected civilians on his left, had the horned figure under his right foot and held a boulder up with is right hand. "The courses were merged into one."

Muttering broke out among the students and Haraki used the opportunity to take a few gulps from his cup.

"Please," he wiped his mouth on the sleeve of his suit jacket, "Quiet down, I know this is a big change. But it is also a necessary one.

"During the infancy of the Department of Heroics this system had done wonders to bring stability to a new society but times have changed."

Click.

The mugshot of a middle aged man with muddy skin appeared on the screen.

"Nerai Kyūsei," Haraki said grimly. "Villain Code: Landslide, or as the news have labeled him: Rescuekiller. A nefarious villain that insidiously staged natural disasters during the monsoon last year to draw out rescue heroes and ambush them whilst they saved people. He managed to hospitalize three heroes before the combat heroes arrived to subdue him. A fast response, but still a regrettable outcome."

Click.

Now the image displayed was that of crumbled buildings, devastated streets with ambulances and people, both standing and lying on the ground.

"Last month: Geonosis ward on the outer rim of Tokyo. A Villain with a mutant type quirk rampaged through a shopping district leveling stores and injuring seventy six people. Combat heroes fought the villain and won but in the process caused even more damage to the surroundings."

Shōta had been ripped from his slumber by the explosion that night. Geonosis was less than a station away from his home. He remembered standing at the living room window with his family, watching the lights in the distance, feeling the tremors as the fight raged on.

"Rescue heroes arrived just in time to suppress a gas explosion and bring the wounded to safety. Again the heroes responded swiftly, but still an outcome that could be averted."

Click.

Back to the image of the multitasking figure.

"Scenarios like these is why the hero courses have merged. Those with less offensive Quirks will be taught how to defend themselves, both through martial training and Quirk development. Those with purely offensive Quirks will be taught situational awareness to minimize damage and potential ways to develop their Quirk for rescue situations. This change is reflected in today's exam.

After we are done here buses will take you to a derelict city-district outside of town."

Click.

A bird's eye view map pf a district flickered on the screen separated by lines into sixteen smaller districts, each with a letter from A to P.

"There you will be divided into groups of twenty five and assigned to a district. The exam lasts for fifteen minutes. You are not allowed to leave your assigned district or fight other students. Breaking any of these rules is grounds for immediate disqualification. Questions?"

Silence.

Haraki took another swig from his cup. Then somebody raised their hand.

"Go ahead."

"Er... you did not specify what we would have to do and what we would be graded on." A girl commented meekly, her voice barely audible in the spacious hall.

"That's right, I didn't."

"Uhm... yes, so... will you do it now?"

"Nope."

Again silence. Then it slowly sunk in and the students simultaneously broke out into loud complaints.

"That's absurd!"

"How are we supposed to know what to do?!"

"What kind of exam **is** this?!"

"I still haven't found the bathroom!"

Haraki calmly downed the rest of his cup's contents before quieting them.

"Quiet, please be quiet." It took a few more tries until the room shushed. "There's a reason why I'm not going into detail," he said calmly, while behind him the projection changed to the U.A. logo.

"Do you think in the future when you are pursuing or fighting villains, search for and rescue civilians that all facts and parameters will be handed to you on a neat spreadsheet?"

Nobody answered.

"There you have it." He gathered his things. "Despite all that," his voice now took on a gentler tone and Shōta could see a smile stretch across his weary face, "have confidence in yourselves. Your skills and determination have brought you here and there is a hero in each of you. My colleagues and I saw the potential in you. We wouldn't have accepted you after the interviews if it weren't so. Now get out there and surpass yourselves. Good luck." He stepped off the dais and walked two steps before rushing back to the mic.

"Plus Ultra."

Genuine applause thundered through the auditorium as Haraki left the stage. Shōta found himself clapping along with everybody as the ceiling lights brightened and the curtains fell.

* * *

The landscape rushed past as the bus motored on, the scenery gradually changing from cityscape to countryside. The AC was set to max, blowing hot, dry air into Shōta's eyes. He turned the regulator a few times to reduce the airflow but screwed off the cap instead which now blew even more air into his face. Every blink felt like sheets of sandpaper grinding against each other. He had gone through two vials of eye-drops.

Pensive silence had taken over the bus, everybody sat silently in their seats, looking out the window or trying to occupy themselves with something. Except the boy next to Shōta who was blasting music through humongous headphones so loud everybody around him could have sung along. He bounced along to the rhythm, his blonde pompadour, stiff as a board, following every motion.

He suddenly stopped, slung off his headphones and pressed the STOP button his cassette player.

The boy's eyes were hidden under a pair of reflective sunglasses, but somehow Shōta knew he was looking at him.

"Yo." he flashed a toothy grin.

 _Goddammit._

"Yo." Shōta greeted flatly.

"What's up man?" The teen straightened his hairdo where the headphones had been. "They pretty much dropped the bomb on us back there huh?" His voice was clear and crisp and far too loud in the oppressive silence, even over the rumbling of the motor.

"Mhm."

"I'm gettin strange vibes from this man. The disclaimer about injuries, the system change and now we're headin into an exam we don't know jack about."

"Maybe that's the point though." Shōta answered, hoping to end this conversation as suddenly as it had started.

"How so?"

"Catch us unprepared, see how we react, adapt, improvise, overcome."

"Hmm..." The blonde knitted his immaculate thin brows. Then suddenly jumped up. **"** **AWWW YEAAAH!"**

Startled, everybody covered their ears. The bus veered off course for a second, the bus driver struggling to regain control.

"Student 134 sit down this instant and cease your yelling!" A female staff member scolded from the front. "And you," she pointed at Shōta, "student 103, lower your volume when you talk."

"I didn't talk though-" The staff was having none of it, she shot them a glare before turning back again.

"Ouuuh baby I dig that." Seems the loudmouth wasn't having any of it either. He continued as if he hadn't heard the woman. _Maybe he hadn't._ Shōta's ears were still ringing.

"I dig it." He repeated, quieter this time. "Reaaaaact." he weaved from side to side. "Adaaaaapt." His left arm made a waving motion that passed through his shoulders to his right arm and back. "Overcooooome. Ha! Ha!" he punched the air two times.

Shōta cursed his luck that had sat him next to this annoying boy, he cursed the broken AC and he cursed the itching in his eyes that ground through his skull.

"I can roll with that. Name's Yamada by the way. Yamada Hizashi." He slid his glasses down ,so that his green eyes looked directly into Shōta's, and extended his hand.

"Aizawa Shōta." He shook his hand firmly.

"We're in the same district Shōta. P for Pasión! El fuego!" He slid the glasses back up catching the light on them.

"We're friends now but don't expect any help from me compañero. The law of the jungle applies here." Hizashi smiled brazenly.

"Don't expect any from me either." Shōta scoffed.

Yamada laughed. **"DUDE! I'M PUMPED NOW!"**

The bus swivelled again. "STUDENT 134!"

Shōta gazed out the window. _Friends now huh?_ He was an annoying loudmouth but, Shōta had to admit, he had gotten him 'pumped' too.

In the distance, the concrete forest loomed closer with each second.

* * *

 _Finally._ Shōta stepped off the bus and stretched his weary limbs, Yamada following shortly after.

"-and out of all of them, Mangy Musashi's my favorite . When he slaps that bass... Hooooo baby, I feel like he's slappin my soul. I feel his music, bro. I really do."

"Sure." Shōta rubbed his eyes. For the rest of the ride, Yamada had held a one sided conversation with Shōta about his favorite bands, genres, singers, instruments. Everything.

The female staff member was completely beside herself. For two hours she had tried to shut him up and for two hours she had utterly failed. She was now slumped against the back of the drivers seat. Completely drained.

Other staff members awaited them and led the group of twenty five to the gate of Sub district P. Behind it towered buildings, some in relatively good repair, some completely dilapidated and other still construction sites. All abandoned though, still and lifeless like a concrete cemetery.

A car then rushed towards them at breakneck speed, tires screeching as it drifted to a halt a couple of meters away from the kids.

From the driver's side emerged a hulking man, broad shouldered and muscled. His navy blue suit straining with every movement. A bushy mane of dark brown hair flowed from around his furred face and neck. He smelled the air with his leathery dark snout, whiskers perking up as he laid his golden eyes on the group of examinees. From the other door a frazzled looking young woman in a suit jacket and pencil skirt stepped out and followed him on wobbly knees.

"Come on Fuzaki, stand straight!" He slapped her back with a meaty paw, nearly toppling her over. "Skills like a race driver! I told you we had time for breakfast. Got us here in time."

"Y-y-yes senpai, stellar driving senpai- urp!" She dry heaved, took a deep breath and with teary eyes straightened her back and puffed up her chest.

"Hello students!" he rumbled. "My name is Shishigo Tsumetaro, teacher at this school and pro hero under the code Braveclaw."

"Fuzaki Shiroto." Now a bit steadier on her feet, the young woman bowed. Braveclaw nudged her with his elbow. "Huh? Ah! Yes, assistant teacher at the U.A. Department of Management and alumnus of that department."

"So," he rested his hands on his hips, "I believe Haraki-san filled you in on all the details."

" _He didn't though..."_ the group of kids collectively sighed.

Braveclaw roared with laughter, slapping Fuzaki on the shoulder who winced.

"Me and assistant teacher Fuzaki -along with the rest of the faculty and a few people from the Department of Heroics- will be watching and grading you from the transmission room."

The crowd stirred uncomfortably.

"I see a lot of good faces today here." he smiled, exposing rows of razor sharp teeth.

"Senpai," Fuzaki mumbled and Braveclaw crouched down so she could whisper in his ear.

"All right," He stood up straight. "The exam is about to begin."

Shōta had been calm even faced with the changes and uncertainties, but now his heart started beating faster. He clenched his fists and breathed deep.

Suddenly, from all around them a voice blared.

 _ **TEN**_

"Now, remember Students!" Braveclaw shouted.

 _ **NINE**_

"You are here because you want to become heroes!"

 _ **EIGHT**_

"Nothing but your best is expected!"

 _ **SEVEN**_

"Know your limits!"

 _ **SIX**_

"And **shatter** them!"

 _ **FIVE**_

"Reach out to the unreachable!"

 _ **FOUR**_

"Attain the unattainable!"

Shōta's heart was now slamming against his rib cage, he looked to Yamada who nodded at him with a shaky smile and Shōta nodded back.

 _ **THREE**_

"Break the unbreakable!"

 _ **TWO**_

"Go beyond!"

 _ **ONE**_

"PLUS ULTRAAAAA!"

Braveclaw's beastly roar was accompanied by the booming sound of a fog horn. Everybody was frozen in the silent second that followed.

Shōta felt his heart stop.

Breath catching in his throat.

The gates slammed open.

Light above flashing green.

 _ **GO**_

* * *

 ** _A/N: Thanks for reading! And thank you to those who favorited, followed and reviewed. I appreaciate it very much!_**

 ** _ **Many thanks go out to rubyxblade for proofreading and editing!**_**


	3. Chapter 3: Overmind

Overmind

Chaos.

Feet pounded against the asphalt, wild jostling, hectic shouting. The examinees dashed off the moment the gates opened, everybody wanted to get ahead, score more and faster in whatever they could score points in.

Shōta was swept along in the heat of the moment, an adrenaline fueled sprint carried him into the sub district along with the others. He rushed past empty storefronts, shattered display windows and splintered doors. Cameras hung on every wall and corner. Seeing this cleared his head. The initial surge faded as reason took over again. _I'm still in the exam._

Shōta lagged behind the group and vanished into the first alleyway on his right. Trash and old boxes lined the narrow street which cut a jagged and uneven path through the buildings. He turned right again and skidded to a halt abruptly.

Dead end.

Shōta cursed under his breath. _High ground._ He leaped onto a trash container, from there he pulled himself up onto a condenser and scaled two floors along a down pipe.

Up on the roof he took in his surroundings. Dust clouds rose in the distance, indistinct sounds reached his ears. Shouts, glass breaking, a heavy bang. Two. Three.

Wind whipped the loose strands of his hair against his face.

Movement caught his eye in the street below him.

Two figures lurched along beneath. Mannequins painted crimson, two horns atop their heads. An antenna extended from their heads, ending in a glowing red ball. Two messy black slashes across the back formed a big V.

Shōta breathed in and plunged from the roof.

The first dummy buckled beneath his weight as he crashed into it feet first. He rolled off of it as the other turned and charged. Shōta ducked under a telegraphed swing then sprung up, his fist rising in a fierce uppercut catching it square under the chin.

The puppet flopped onto the ground motionless.

He breathed out. _Two down._ Across the street in the direction the puppets where heading a scream sounded. Strangely hoarse and artificial.

Another a scream, identical to the one before, from a window on the first floor of an apartment building. He took off to a run.

Shōta stepped through the open door on the ground floor. At the bottom of the steps a square was painted in a bright yellow. It read 'Evacuation Space'. Another scream, this one much closer. He bounded up the steps. The first apartment door that came into view was slightly ajar.

Inside, two blue mannequins, obviously meant to be an adult with a child, were confronted by a crimson one.

Shōta crouched low, pushing the door open and crept up behind the villainous puppet. He lunged, reaching for the antenna and ripped it from the head. The puppet crumbled instantaneously. Limbs and joints scattering all over the floor.

The antenna he had been holding fell apart, leaving only wispy strands of silvery hair and the red ball."Ugh." Shōta shook the hairs off his hand.

"HELP." A robotic voice demanded without emotion. "I AM HURT." The blue mannequin limped towards him, its child in tow. A Big red smear painted across it's thigh. A quick search of the sparse dwelling produced a first aid kit. Shōta's mother had often patched him up when he had returned home after getting into a fight or when his stunts across the rooftops had ended with him tumbling face first into the dirt. When he was lucky.

He bandaged the puppet's leg, doing his best to imitate the dexterous movements of his mother. Still, try as he might, he could not reproduce the work of an experienced nurse just from watching. The wrap was sloppy but the 'wound' was covered up and the gauze didn't slip down.

Ping! In that moment the red ball atop the mannequin's head lit up green. "THANK YOU."

Shōta remembered the evacuation space at the bottom of the stairs.

"I'll help you get out of here-" _Why am I talking to a puppet?_

He shook his head and gently picked the 'civilian' up in his arms. "Follow me." He turned to the child puppet and it accompanied him down the stairs and into the designated space where, as soon as he put down the other mannequin, both pinged green again and powered down.

Shōta dusted himself off and darted out into the alley again.

* * *

 **TEN MINUTES LEFT**

A voice announced as Shōta crouched on a chimney, catching his breath.

He had taken out several of the villain squads that seemed to always roam in groups of two or three. Some had civilians as hostages to be freed, others were holed up in buildings, some had even been laying in wait to ambush unsuspecting students. None had posed a significant challenge however and were dealt with fairly swiftly.

" **YEEEEEAAAAAAH!** " Rivaling the announcer voice in volume, Hizashi's unmistakable quirk screeched a few blocks away. A villain puppet flailed through the air and crashed into a building shortly after.

 _Damn._

Still, what the opponents lacked in skill, they made up in numbers. There had been no shortage of them take on. Which wasn't a bad thing, he must've racked up a lot of points by now between fighting and rescuing, but that did not satisfy him.

Something nagged him in the back of his mind, like an important detail that eluded him.

What little information they had been provided pointed towards subduing the villains and rescuing the civilians as the objectives. The main focus _had_ been the merging of the courses after all. _There's got to be more than that though._

Haraki's speech played back in his mind.

" _Do you think in the future when you are pursuing or fighting villains, search for and rescue civilians that all facts and parameters will be handed to you on a neat spreadsheet?"_

 _Pursuing...parameters...handed to you._

Something clicked. He had fought villains, searched for and rescued civilians but he had never pursued the villains. He had only reacted, never did he try to actively resolve the problem. _Consider this a villain invasion: Only taking out the goons won't get you anywhere._ But where was the boss? The endless stream of villains had to be coming from somewhere.

Had there been a pattern to their appearance? _There had to be._ He pushed off of the chimney onto the roof and took off running, jumping over gaps, vaulting over obstacles, all the while watching.

Noting the direction the puppets came from, buildings they emerged out of.

There _was_ a pattern. They were fanning out from the upper left corner of district P. The only remarkable landmark there was a high office building, at least twenty stories high.

Patrols were more frequent the further he approached where it stood: directly on the point where district P adjoined with district O and L.

There were no students here and the number of cameras lessened as he went on. He stood now on the roof of a building across the street from the towering office complex. The doors on the ground floor were welded shut, the outer walls higher up comprised mostly of large windows.

Shōta could only see the side which was in his district, the others stuck out into districts K,L and O.

Borders were marked by a thick red tape labeled with 'BORDER' spanning across streets and over rooftops. There might have been access points somewhere else but he would not reach them without getting disqualified.

Completely barricaded and located in central point between the sub districts. They might as well have painted 'Villain HQ Here!' on the front door... but nothing entered or exited.

 _Dammit! This_ _ **has**_ _to be it!_

The only thing left to do was try to find where the puppets came from.

He went back to where he had seen the bulk of them come from, tracing their steps. When he would lose a patrol he waited for another, going further and further back until he came upon a dead end.

He lay prone on the roof waiting. One minute passed... two...

Nothing.

 **SIX MINUTES LEFT**

 _COME ON!_

All of a sudden he heard a grinding sound beneath him. He peered over the edge to see two mannequins emerging from an opening in the wall that wasn't previously there, behind them the doors slowly started closing again. Instantly he swung down, landing softly behind the puppets and rolling between the sliding doors just as they snapped shut with a thud.

Pitch black.

It smelled damp and moldy. In the absolute silence his heavy breathing sounded to him like huge bellows, the beating of his heart like frantic war drums, banging in his ears.

He groped blindly in the dark, finding the wall and following it deeper into... wherever he was heading.

The tunnel continued for what felt like an eternity. Only the scraping of his sneakers against the concrete accompanied him. He was short of breath, the stagnant air thick with dust and oppressively warm, providing only little oxygen.

BANG.

Something cold and hard cracked him on the nose, instinctively he lashed out, kicking something hard and unmoving in front of him. He staggered back, dropped into a fighting stance and waited.

Nothing moved, no steps to be heard, no hits to defend against.

Shōta extended his arm, feeling in front of him. _A wall._ His hand hit something that clicked. The wall gave way.

 _A door..._

Shōta pushed his sudden assailant aside and light poured into the tunnel, burning his eyes.

He stumbled forward onto a small staircase, sat down, taking in a few greedy lungfuls of air. It smelled of iron.

Warm blood trickled out of his nostrils. _Well, at least it isn't broken._ Still hurt like hell though.

He used up the last vial of eye drops to clean the dust out of his eyes, tossed it aside and leaped up the stairs.

Fluorescent bulbs bathed the stairwell in a flickering white light. The air in here was not as stale as in the tunnel but still not pleasant. Shōta ascended three flights of stairs and came upon a door.

Just as he was about to open it, the handle turned. In a flash, he sprinted upwards, the stairs ended there abruptly, a wall blocking the path to the floor above. He lay down on the landing, holding his breath. The door eased open, a stream of mannequins poured out from it and down the stairs. Behind them he could barely make out a conversation.

"-applicants are nuts! Overmind-san can barely keep up the pace." _A man._

"Drones! Command: get out into the city and patrol, engage any student you see." Another man. The antennas on the drones' heads pinged yellow and they stormed down the stairs. _  
_

"Overmind? Man, **I** can barely keep up, why don't they repair the elevator? I don't wanna climb twenty floors again. I can already feel the blisters." The first complained.

"You know Overmind has to be high up for the reception to be good right?"

The other man grunted.

"Come on, it won't be long now, there's four-"

 **FOUR MINUTES LEFT**

"See?"

"Yeah alright but you're-" The door shut.

Shōta waited for the puppets to vanish before opening the door. He slipped into what looked like an old open plan office and saw the two men across the room, their backs turned to him, the U.A. logo on their uniform.

"Why drinks on **me** tonight?"

"Because you got promoted, mister Management Department janitor slash custodian."

"Shut up."

He shadowed them from a safe distance. The pair vanished into another door. Shōta caught a glimpse of stairs. That route was out of the question. _Too much traffic_.

On the other side of the office the open elevator shaft yawned, without even a warning tape to fence it off.

He walked over and peered down. The crumpled husk of what had once been the elevator rested at the bottom, thick steel wires coiled in a big pile on top of it.

Above him the empty shaft continued upward. He could not see the end. _Twenty floors it is._

* * *

Luckily the maintenance ladder was still largely intact, only part of it had broken off where some time ago the elevator must have crashed into it on it's final descent.

Shōta's arms and legs burned but he pushed on, rung for rung. Until he arrived at the twentieth floor.

 **THREE MINUTES LEFT**

He poked his head into the frame to see. Puppets passed by, a few meters off across another open office room, ushered towards the stairs by U.A. personnel.

Shōta took off his shoes and socks, put the shoes on again and slipped his socks over them.

After the next squad had passed him by, he lunged for the nearest cubicle, rolling off silently on the carpet, a small cloud of dust puffing up behind him.

The parties of mannequins and personnel now came in a steady rhythm which he exploited, moving from one booth to the other. The socks muffing his steps.

He crawled under a desk and sat there for a minute, hugging his knees, his breath barely a whisper. The back of the cubicle he hid in opened towards the window side, overlooking the entirety of the district. He could see as far as sub district A.

Smoke billowed up from one district, brief flashes of light came from another. A few seconds later the window panes rattled. Suddenly a huge spire of what looked like parts of buildings and concrete rose up. Nearly thirty meters tall.

"Holy shit." A woman admired. "Look at that!" Steps approached Shōta's cubicle. He held his breath.

"Man. These kids are crazy!" A man chimed in. The steps came closer and stopped.

He could see now the toes of two pairs of boots, close enough for him to reach out and touch them. The employees stood there for a moment in silent admiration.

 **TWO MINUTES LEFT**

"Oh crap, come on. You know what the boss said: There's got to be at least two villains out for each students at all times. We gotta hustle."

The employees walked off but Shōta waited for them to leave the room to breathe out. There was little time left. He was certain that the boss, or 'Overmind' as they had called him, was in the next room. However the door that led there was also the main thoroughfare on which the squads of villains moved out.

A few meters left to it, an open wall with a counter on it lead into a break room of sorts. Shōta made his way over there, dodging another patrol and vaulted over the counter.

The furniture inside was old and dusty, but on the table in the middle of the room stood several thermos carafes and packets of biscuits that looked fresh. Among them was a pack of animal crackers, which he pocketed.

On the other of the room a door stood open, leading into the chamber where the boss -hopefully- was.

As he had done before he slid through the door and into a cubicle.

This office had been cleaned out in the middle. A single person stood there, a man, dressed in a long white lab coat, under which he wore white overalls. His eyes were hidden behind thick welding goggles. On top of his head rose an antenna identical to the ones the puppets had.

Mountains of parts surrounded him on all sides.

He ripped out strands of his silvery hair, twirled them around, put one side into his mouth and blew. On the other side, like a small balloon, a red ball appeared. The man then grabbed a head from the pile and stuck the new antenna onto it. From the other piles, limbs and a torso flew towards it and attached, forming a new villain puppet that marched off.

It reminded Shōta of a show he used to watch: the Power Strangers with their combining robots.

 **ONE MINUTE LEFT**

"Thank god! I'm gonna be so sore tomorrow." He rubbed his nearly bald head.

Shōta pulled out a long power cable from an old printer and carefully approached the man, sneaking up behind him.

As he had done before, the man ripped out a tuft of his hair, twirled it around, blew into it and stuck it onto one of the heads. He watched the puppet slowly assemble, sighing as he shifted his weight onto his back leg.

That was all Shōta needed. He caught him off balance kicking his legs out from under him. He grabbed his right arm, twisted and pinned it to his back.

"Owowowow! What the hell?!" The older man struggled to turn around from where he lay on the ground and Shōta pushed him down with his body weight. "Drones! Command: Attack this person!"

The one puppet that had just finished assembling itself along with four other turned instantly and charged.

Shōta shifted his gaze to the man below him, feeling the familiar heat build up in his eyes as he activated his quirk.

The puppets fell apart in a shower of crimson limbs. From the other rooms sounded a cacophony composed of clattering, clanking and surprised cries.

"What the... how did you? My drones..." Overmind stammered.

Shōta used the moment of mental absence to hogtie him with the power cable.

 **FIVE**

The door slammed open, two employees rushing in

 **FOUR**

"Overmind-san, did something-" They saw Shōta squatting over a tied up Overmind.

 **THREE**

"Who the heck?"

 **TWO**

Shōta bolted towards the other door only to find it locked.

 **ONE**

"You there! Stop immediately!"

 **ZERO**

The fog horn blared again. Shōta eased up. The exam ended. The hidden objective successfully completed. He turned around towards the U.A. employees only to be tackled to the ground by one of them.

Just as he had done to Overmind, he was now pressed to the ground, his arms held behind his back.

"Hey! Why are you holding me down? Let me go." Shōta struggled.

"Stay down!" One of them screamed into his ear. The other one talked through a walkie talkie.

"Yes sir, we caught an intruder... I don't know, could be a student, he looks young... Yes, a boy..."

A woman tended to Overmind, unfurling the cable which bound him. As soon as he was untied he jumped up and stomped towards Shōta.

"Who are you?! Identify yourself!" He shrieked.

"Aithafa fōta, ekfam patifipant numba one oh free." Shōta had stopped struggling but the U.A. staff still held him down, pressing his face against the dusty carpet and squeezing his cheeks together to the point where he looked like a puffer fish.

"Let him speak!"

The man eased his grip.

"Aizawa Shōta, exam participant number 103." He repeated.

"A student?! Stop lying!"

"Sir," the one that had been talking over the radio spoke up. "The info checks out. I just confirmed the ID we found in his pocket. He's telling the truth."

Overmind glared at Shōta, his eyes full of disdain.

"Well Mr. Aizawa, you broke into U.A. property, disrupted the exam and assaulted a teacher."

Slowly the realization dawned on Shōta. There had been no secret objective. The test _was_ just that simple. Fight and rescue, fight and rescue.

"As a teacher of U.A. Academy I am forced to take action against such behavior."

He had fancied himself smart, thinking ahead. Thinking realistically. But this was an exam. And even if Haraki had said so, all the parameters _were_ printed on a neat spreadsheet. It just hadn't been handed to them.

"On grounds of multiple violations, you are hereby disqualified from the exam."

* * *

 **A/N: Thanks for reading! And thanks to those who reviewed, followed and favorited.**

 **Many thanks go out to rubyxblade for proofreading and editing!**


	4. Chapter 4: A Duty to the Future

A Duty To The Future

 **ZERO**

"Exam successfully completed at ten thirty, January eighteenth." Haraki announced in the stuffy transmission room. The other staff members clapped as the numerous screens mounted on the walls powered down. He leaned back, stretching his arms above his head and cracking his knuckles.

"Now to tally the scores..." He sighed as he stood up and gathered the empty paper cups off the console.

Incredible performances had been displayed today. As intended by the new system, most of the students had an even score of rescue and villain points. Except for a few bloodthirsty ones who apparently wanted to reach U.A. by scaling a mountain of obliterated drones. Haraki crunched the numbers roughly, the damages for this exam would be in the hundred thousands. _And that's from the damages only._ Factoring in the cleaning crew that would take at least a month to clear the debris and make everything ready for the next exam in a year pushed the sum into the millions. A trite sum when split between principal Kobayashi's deep pockets and the government's even deeper ones. _Perks of an economic boom._

The teachers had been quick to excuse themselves, leaving behind the department of heroics people to power down the systems. Haraki caught the attention of a colleague of his and made a drinking motion, thumb pointing towards his mouth.

 _Tonight?_ He mouthed soundlessly.

 _You bet._ The other man answered in kind.

 _Yes!_ Haraki celebrated inwardly and powered his console down, the screens going black one by one.

Surprisingly enough, the exam had went off without a hitch. No major injuries, no major structural damage to any of the buildings. Except for the one that had been molded into a giant spire but that was not Haraki's problem. The only problem he had to think about was how he would get home drunk as he would be this evening.

Without warning the door burst open. A young U.A. employee stood in the portal, breathing heavily.

"Sir! There's been an emergency!" She wiped the sweat off her brow. "An intruder, he assaulted Overmind in the Drone Hive!"

"What?!"

A villain? Here? Impossible. Haraki jogged towards the woman and grabbed her by the shoulders.

"Was anybody wounded? Have the authorities been informed? Do we know who it is?"

"No sir, nobody was wounded and the staff have subdued him, they're checking for ID now." She held out the walkie talkie to him.

Haraki yanked it from her grasp, pushing the PTT button. "Haraki here, talk to me. Over." He let go of the button.

It took a moment but the device crackled. "Suzuki here, somebody infiltrated the hive but we caught him. Over."

"Is he a villain you recognize? What does he look like? Over."

"No he's not. He's in his teens, tall, black hair, looks a bit pasty. They are searching for his ID right now. Over."

Haraki's mind worked, filing though pictures and mugshots of villains new and old, none who matched the description would have motives to disrupt the exam, nor held a grudge against Overmind. He had not been active in the field for nearly two years now.

"Sir, we have an ID. What the... its an exam participant!" he gasped.

It could not have been a villain. They had run full background checks on every participant and on every close relative and acquaintance. The whole department had worked overtime to facilitate that.

The media never cared for details like investigations and evidence. He could already see the headlines: Villain infiltrates Hero Academy's exam despite government supervision! Can we still trust the officials to do their duty? If this came out it would be a disaster of unprecedented political ramifications. An icy sense of dread wormed its way into his gut.

"The ID reads: Aizawa Shōta exam participant number 103, can you confirm the ID?"

The Aizawa boy from a week ago? Tall, black hair and pasty, the description fit him to a T. That changed things. Massively. He couldn't have been an infiltrator, his intentions were genuine. The smoldering determination he had witnessed behind those eyes that day was genuine. No doubt about it. It had been the reason why he had caught his interest.

"-sir? Sir! I repeat: Can you confirm the ID? Over."

"Y-yes, I confirm the ID. Bring him to the second floor of the exam center, the far meeting room on the right. And don't let the students see you, use the tunnels. Over and out."

"Will do sir. Over and out."

Haraki handed the device back to the woman and stormed past her into the empty hall. Half his mind on assembling the committee, he was sure the boy did not have any ill intent. There was just the matter of getting to the bottom of it. Overmind was a choleric simpleton, throwing tantrums like a spoiled child. The young man would have difficulty finding someone who would sympathize with him here. He frowned in frustration. _I'm probably the only one._ He couldn't let this potential go to waste he _had_ to do something.

Haraki jogged towards the transmission room for the Drone Hive where he burst through the door.

In the rectangle of light that crashed into the room with him he saw two of his underlings from the department in various states of undress. The woman sat on top of the main console, pulling down the man by his tie.

"This has _got_ to be a joke..." The older man rubbed his eyes. He wanted to punch himself for thinking this would be a relaxed day. Clothes rustled and zippers were pulled up. He waited for the sounds to stop to look up again. They stood before him at attention, avoiding his gaze, both of them beet red. "You know, I used to think that I was babysitting a group of kindergartners." he sighed. "Congratulations you two! You've convinced me otherwise." The pair hesitantly met his gaze. "Apparently I'm babysitting horny teenagers!" He threw his arms up in frustration.

"Sir, I am so sorry we just-" the man tried to explain himself.

"I don't care, Atsushi." He silenced him with a wave of his hand. "I'll let this slide," the pair's expression brightened, "on one condition." And darkened again. "You have five minutes to compile all the footage of participant 103, Aizawa Shōta from district P on a tape and bring it to viewing room 3 E down the hall."

"Sir, the system has shut down, it'll take at least a two minutes to get back up."

"Not my problem. And be thorough." He walked out into the hall. "Also wipe that console before you leave, for goodness sake!"

Haraki took off towards the viewing room, which was, at least, devoid of any licentious coworkers. He dragged a desk over to the biggest TV with an integrated VHS player, slammed a stack of blank papers down on it and sat.

The tired examiner did not know whether to laugh or cry. He rested his head on the cool tabletop and closed his eyes. _Probably the only shuteye I'm getting today._

The image of him lounging in a cozy Izakaya with a cold mug of beer in his left hand and a juicy Yakitori skewer in his right went up in a cloud of smoke. In its place the all too familiar thrumming of an oncoming migraine marched towards his forehead.

* * *

Shōta was pushed down onto a chair by the two guards that flanked him, handcuffs clattering against aluminum. He was positioned in the middle of a U shaped table, meeting the gazes of teachers, department employees, the principal and Overmind. One seat was empty at the base of the U. Braveclaw and his the assistant Fuzaki were among there too.

A clock ticked loudly. Behind the middle seat at the base ,which was occupied by the principal, an oversized and far too flattering portrait of Kobayashi joined all the other judging gazes in the room.

The wood paneled walls were decorated with various awards, degrees and black and white group photos of men and women in uniforms.

"He called us here and now he's late." A white haired man with a mustache, clad in a black suit and tie tapped his finger against the armrest of his chair.

"What I don't understand is why this is even up for debate." Overmind sat next to the principal, his arms folded in front of his chest. He shot Shōta a poisonous glare and turned away with a scoff.

"I agree," the principal added. "We should be alerting the police!"

Shōta swallowed. Being disqualified was bad enough, but now they would call the cops? U.A. would be out of the picture, but he could try Ketsubutsu Academy, since he had applied for them too. However if the cops were brought into this... trespassing, assault and unauthorized quirk use were no minor offenses. That meant a criminal record, which in turn dashed all his hopes of ever becoming a hero to bits.

He wanted to talk, to explain the situation to them, but the words escaped him. Trying to reason with them had proved fruitless, everything he said was instantly dismissed as lies.

The entire room looked at him like he was the biggest inconvenience they ever had to endure. Shōta felt like a sentenced man standing before the chopping block. He looked at his hands in his lap, the dull reflection of yellow light on the cuffs shifted as he ran his fingers over the metal. Cold and smooth. Had he known this would happen Shōta would have stayed in his bed. How he wished himself home, rolled up in his covers. Mom and dad were probably waiting for him to return. _Oh no._ What would his parents think if they heard of this. A shiver ran down his spine. Their son: gone off to become a hero, came back a criminal. How proud they had been, how devastated they would be. Shōta buried his face in his hands. All just because he wanted to play the wise guy. _Dammit!_

Two knocks sounded at the door. Shōta looked up to see Haraki stepping through it. He looked worse than he did a couple of hours ago. He had discarded his suit jacket and his white dress shirt was wrinkled and untucked, his tie hanging loosely around his collar which stuck out at odd angles. Their gazes met for an instant. Haraki winked. Shōta nodded, his spirits lifting.

A man and a woman pushed into the room a metal table on wheels that carried a TV set, the examiner dismissed the pair and they left as quickly as they had entered.

"Finally. You're late." the principal scowled.

Haraki smiled and clapped his hands together. "Sorry gentlemen, had to do a bit of work." He sat down on the empty chair at the base, next to the principal. "So, I believe everyone has been briefed on the-" he paused when his eyes fell on the bindings around Shōta's wrists. "Are you completely out of your minds? Did you seriously cuff a fifteen year old boy in a room full of professional heroes? Get those things off!" The guards next to Shōta looked from Haraki to the principal and back, not sure what to do.

"Haraki-san I have to insist that-" the principal interjected. Haraki cut him off with a sharp glare. The rotund man shrunk back in his chair and made no other sound. After a nod from the examiner the cuffs were taken off. Shōta rubbed his sore wrists.

"Now, I believe everyone has been briefed on the situation?" Affirmative grunts filled the room. "Still, I would like to hear the offenses on which you have based the disqualification of this young man. Overmind-shi."

"He disrupted the exam, broke into U.A. property and assaulted me." Overmind recounted.

"He also stole my animal crackers." The guard on Shōta's right added.

Haraki narrowed his eyes at him and quickly shook his head.

"First of all, he did not disrupt the exam in any way. From the reports he 'assaulted' you seconds before the exam ended so don't insult our intelligence." Haraki said dismissively.

"Second, the exam site is not U.A. property, it belongs to the department. So it falls to me to decide if he trespassed. Which he did not."

Overmind huffed once but did not look the examiner in the eye.

"Haraki-san, this is ridiculous. This boy could be villain. He made an attempt on Overmind's life for heavens sake!" Kobayashi protested.

"Impossible. Everybody from the department here will confirm it. We did background checks on everybody." All around the table men and women from the department nodded.

"You cannot deny that he assaulted him though."

"No, I can't. But let's hear the boy's side, as I'm sure none of you have even let him make a case for himself." He turned to Shōta. "Why were you inside the building where the drones came from?"

Shōta hesitated but this was his only chance. He swallowed. "Haraki-san had said that later when we would be in the field that we would pursue and fight villains and search and rescue civilians. I did everything but the pursuing part of that, so I arrived at the logical conclusion that I had to pursue the mannequins-"

"They're drones you idiot!" Overmind shouted. Braveclaw, who sat on the corner adjacent to him tried to shush the upset teacher. Haraki shook his head.

"Continue."

"I had to pursue the drones. I treated the exam as a villain invasion in which the smart thing to do would be to find and defeat the boss rather than waste time with underlings. I thought there was a secret objective to the exam. At the time it seemed plausible." At the time, yes. Now, not so much.

"So what did you do?"

"I followed the patrols back to their origin and found a hidden doorway through which I accessed the office building and subdued the one who was creating the villains."

Mutters went around the table. Haraki wore a thin smile on his weary features. Shōta wrung his hands. Surely they would understand his reasoning.

"How did you subdue him?" he asked.

"I hog-tied him with a power cord."

The room exploded into peals of laughter. Braveclaw howled as he threw his head back. Overmind had went as red as the ball on his antenna.

"Oh man..." Haraki wiped the tears from his eyes.

"He snuck up on me! I was caught off guard!" Overmind slammed his fist on the table, scarlet with fury.

"A heinous assault indeed." Haraki giggled. "But on a more serious note now." The room slowly settled back into a now much more comfortable silence. Shōta took a deep breath, relaxing slightly.

"So you slipped past security, scaled twenty floors without getting caught and subdued a pro hero. That is extraordinary." He looked at his colleagues. "It would be a crime to let that much talent go to waste."

Heated discussions broke out among teachers and department officials alike.

"Haraki-san, I know for a fact that Aizawa-kun scored twenty five villain points and twenty three rescue points which puts him at a forty eight total. Seven points under the passing grade of fifty five." The rotund principal pointed out. "Which makes this whole discussion redundant." He grinned, pleased with himself.

Shōta's heart sank. He had spent half the exam on a wild goose chase. He had scored no points since the time he fixated on the secret objective.

"Let me correct you there Kobayashi-san." Haraki turned the TV set behind him on and inserted a videotape. On the screen played scenes of students fighting the drone villains. "You see, an interesting little detail is Aizawa-kun's quirk which disables others. Apparently he used it on Overmind and look what happened." He pointed to the TV. Drones were collapsing left and right, bewildered students staring in disbelief at the heaps of limbs in front of them.

"As I am aware, because I organized about eighty percent of this exam, there had to be at least two drones out at every time for each student. Across district K,L,O and P which hosted 25 students each we have a total of two hundred vanquished drones. By his quirk alone. Which puts Aizawa-kun at a grand total of two hundred and forty eight points."

 _Two hundred..._ Shōta's jaw dropped.

"Everybody present here who supports revoking Aizawa Shōta-kun's disqualification, lift your hand."

All hands were raised except for two: the principal and Overmind who stormed out of the room.

"Very well, you won Haraki-san. Disqualification revoked." Kobayashi sighed. "Welcome to U.A. Aizawa Shōta."

* * *

Everybody filed out of the room one by one, Braveclaw stopping to slap Shōta on the back and flashing him a toothy smile before leaving.

Haraki was the last one. "Come on," he motioned him to follow. They scaled a switchback staircase at the end of the hall and came to door which Haraki unlocked.

A strong wind swept over the rooftop and Shōta shivered. The examiner did not seem fazed by it, leaning against the railing, eyes staring sightlessly at the exam site below, as he pulled out a cigarette and put it to his lips. He cupped his hand over it against the wind and lit it. Shōta stood next to him, watching as the clean-up crew worked, students entered the buses that would bring them back home.

Haraki to a long drag and blew out a plume of smoke that was carried away by a gust.

"They do that to you?" He pointed towards Shōta's nose with the butt of the cigarette.

There was still a patch of dried blood under one of his nostrils. He scratched it off. "No. ran into a door down in the tunnels."

The examiner chuckled.

"I wanted to say thank you, Haraki-san." There were not enough words to express his gratitude to the man before him but he would try at least.

"Ugh, being called like that makes me feel old." he extended his hand. "Takameru. Pleased to finally get to know you."

"Shōta." He shook his hand. It was bony and rough but it gripped his firmly nonetheless.

"Well Shōta, you've made quite the impression on the teachers and our staff. Can't say if it's the good or the bad kind. We'll see in the long run." He scratched his salt and pepper stubble.

"Believe me, I never wanted to make an impact like that." Shōta rubbed his hands together and stuffed them down his pockets. Something rustled. He pulled the pack of animal crackers from his pocket.

"You _actually_ stole that guy's animal crackers?" Haraki laughed, smoke pouring out of his mouth with each breath. "I believe you, you're not the type who wants to be in the spotlight."

"How do you know?"

"Saw it, with my special eyes."

"Quirk?"

"No. Just years of experience and intuition. I'm quirkless actually." He looked at the crackers. "You gonna open that?"

"Er... sure." He ripped it open and Haraki grabbed a handful.

"Thanks. For the last few days I've been surviving on a diet of coffee and cigarettes." The older man stuffed the crackers into his mouth. _He didn't check which animals he had gotten._

"That can't be healthy."

"Eh." he shrugged. "You've made an enemy today, Shōta."

"Yeah..." A teacher at the school he would be attending. Meetings would be inevitable. He just hoped he would not have him in any subjects.

"Don't worry too much though. Overminds a vindictive little cu-" He coughed. "A vindictive little fellow, but don't get discouraged, he's mostly bark and no bite."

"I'll keep that in mind."

They spent a few quiet moments, munching on a few crackers, Haraki lit a new cigarette.

"Takameru-san, I have a question. Why did you go to such lengths just for me?"

He took another long drag and thought as the smoke bloomed.

"I may not seem like it but I love my job. It is exhausting at times, the people can be a major pain the neck and I often marvel at the vastness of human stupidity. See exhibit A:," He pointed downwards. Overmind was getting into a car with one of his drones at the wheel and sped off. "On the other side, its people like you that keep me going at this job. The students. There's no better feeling than meeting a former student on the street and seeing them all grown up in their costumes, fighting injustice." He tapped his cigarette once and ash scattered into the wind. "I have a duty, Shōta. To society and to you kids who want to protect it. A duty to the future."

"I see in you a hero who _thinks logically_. A rare trait for someone in this line of work. Heroes are known for charging in with reckless abandon. 'My body moved on its own when I saw you in danger!'" He said in a deep gravelly voice. "Sure, this time you thought a bit too much for your own good." Shōta looked down at the ground, embarrassed. "But you are still young, you have time to learn. And that is where I come in." He took a final drag and tossed the cigarette over the railing. "I ensure that the potential you have doesn't go to waste and you get the education to fully utilize it."

"That, and out of all the kids today you were different. The good kind of different. You have a strong drive to become a hero and for what I think an amazing reason."

"I...I don't know how to thank you."

Haraki laid a hand on his shoulder. "Become a hero you can be proud of. That's more than enough for me." He smiled, tired creases forming across his cheeks. "Go on now, the buses are leaving soon." His hand brushed off and he walked past him and down the stairs.

Shōta looked up in to the cloudless sky, pushed back the lump that had formed in his throat, and bowed deeply towards where Haraki had left.

* * *

"Finally. Student 103, what took you so long?" The female staff member from the bus ride snapped at him.

"Bathroom."

"Fine, get in. Roll call!"

Shōta walked back to his seat, Hizashi was already there, his pompadour had deflated a bit since the exam and he was in the process of fixing it up. He smiled as he saw him approach.

"Ay, compañero!" He held up his hand, Shōta high fived him. "How'd you do?"

"Not bad. You?"

"You know me, wasted forty two of the suckers. Rescued another twenty six." He puffed out his chest. "How many did you get?"

"About the same." Shōta sat down on his seat.

"You think the puppets collapsing before the end was intended?"

"Dunno, maybe a malfunction or something."

"Student 103!"

"Here!"

"Student 134!"

" **Here**!"

"All students on board! Let's go." The bus rumbled to life and slowly lurched forward. The AC blasted Shōta's eyes with a steady stream of hot air. _Goddammit._ He rummaged around his pockets but he had already used up all the eye-drops. He still had about half of the animal crackers left though.

"Yo, want some?"

"Ouuh baby, heck yeah I want some. Thanks, bro!" he reached into the pack and pulled out a single one. "A lion. Sweet!"

Shōta reached in as well, grabbed one and munched it without looking.

* * *

 **A/N: Thanks for reading! And thanks to the people who reviewed, followed and favorited. The feedback is very much appreaciated!  
**

 **Many thanks go out to rubyxblade for proofreading and editing! Please check out their work as well!  
**


	5. Chapter 5: Qualities of a Hero

Qualities of a Hero

 _Kachak-kachak. Kachak-kachak._

Shōta tightened his hold, his knuckles white, around the metallic pole as the rickety old train snaked over the raised train tracks towards the Tatooin ward.

Squat buildings hugged the elevated railway, their walls and windows precariously close to where the trains thundered along. Behind these buildings sprawled outwards a sea of rusted tin roofs, TV antennas and billboards. Shōta caught sight of his house, a distant oasis of green amidst a desert of matted gray and flaky rust. His father's garden crowning the building like the foliage of an old oak even in winter.

Slowly the cinnabar tinge of sundown vanished behind the skyline.

The adrenaline had now completely drained from his system, his senses clearing up again in a rush of painful reality. His nose throbbed, his knuckles were scraped bloody, the blood already scabbing into dark clumps; and after that climb, getting out of bed tomorrow would require ten times the effort it usually took him.

The train slowed down then, brakes screeching as a jingle played from above. "Mos Espa, Mos Espa. Exit to the right in the direction of travel. Connection to subway line..."

Shōta shouldered past the stream of people that pushed in from outside the moment the doors opened and stumbled out onto the station.

Outside, a couple of young men squatted around the convenience store next to the station, smoking cigarettes. They eyed Shōta warily as he passed, he met their gaze and upon recognizing him they hurriedly looked away. Blackened and dirt-speckled snow lined the streets in small heaps. He marched on, through narrow alleys, past graffiti covered walls and stepping over a homeless man that lay sleeping in a box.

His legs carried him towards the shopping district, he had switched to autopilot as soon as he had exited the train.

The exam was over and there was no need to anxiously wait for a letter. The principal _had_ said "Welcome to U.A." but he had done so with a resigned tone that had bordered dangerously on contempt. The one sure thing was that _if_ indeed Shōta was accepted to attend, thanks to Haraki-san's efforts, he would not be welcomed with open arms. Not by the principal and certainly not by Overmind.

"What a pain..." he sighed just as he passed through the gate and into the Xelric shopping district and neighborhood he called home. District was a generous term for the small assortment of shops that lined the wide street. It looked barren now, almost deserted. And although during the day it was always busy, now that the sun had nearly set, the only people that lingered were the shop-keepers that were sluggishly putting everything away. It seemed nobody wanted to brave the cold to go shopping.

"Shō-chan!" An older woman called to him from inside her kiosk. "Come on over darling!"

Shōta approached the small establishment, the smell of deep-fried food wafted enticingly out from the shop and his stomach growled, the crackers had not been a very filling meal.

"Hello auntie."

Behind her a white haired elder lowered a frying basket into a boiling oil with a sizzle. "Oi, Shō-chan! How'd the exam go?" He wiped his brow with a handkerchief that he stuffed into his pocket.

Shōta hesitated. "Pretty good I guess..." He averted his eyes.

"I told you darling," the old timer turned to the woman, "you worry too much. I told you he'd be fine as a fiddle." He smiled. His wife slapped him on the shoulder.

"You let me worry however I want. Go now, you're gonna burn the croquettes!"

"Oh right!" He turned sharply and jogged back to the deep fryer.

"I will be going then, have a nice evening." Shōta bowed.

"Wait. You must be hungry." With practiced movements she quickly packaged a croquette and handed it to him over the counter. Shōta's hand moved to his pocket where he kept his wallet. "Young man, don't you even think about paying for this." She stared him down.

Quarrelsome mooks he could deal with. Dangerous quirks he could erase. There was no resisting auntie when she offered food. He accepted it with a defeated sigh.

"Thanks."

"Good boy, even heroes need to eat. Ah! Just a moment." Her hand reached into the display window, plucking a few other treats that were also packaged and put into a plastic bag she handed him. "For the others. They'd be jealous if you showed up without something for them too. And here: the stuff that's past the expiration date." And another bag to carry.

"Auntie, I don't think this is how you run a business." Shōta accepted the bag without hesitating. It would be of no use anyway.

"I've been feeding this neighborhood for thirty years. I know how to run a business." She crossed her arms in front of her chest. "Now get yourself home before they go cold."

"Thanks again, good night."

The old man too shouted his goodbyes from the back as Shōta continued down the street towards the leafed house.

* * *

Gnarled roots slithered up the front wall of the narrow house where above the slightly grimy store window they formed letters: Aizawa Floral Design. The "Floral" was dotted with numerous colorful little flowers that ever so slightly fluttered as the icy breeze blew past them. Inside the lights were off, a small sign turned to CLOSED on the vine covered door.

Shōta felt something brush his leg. A gray cat looked up at him, meowing, muddy paws stepping on his shoes as it rubbed its head against his pants.

"Hello, Iyo." He scratched her behind the ear. The feline purred contently. Shōta looked behind him to see the rest of the neighborhood cats gathered. He would feed them whenever he returned from school, he had missed their daily appointment by a few hours. Expectant eyes followed his every movement.

The moment he crouched down and opened the second bag he had been given, he was surrounded by a maelstrom of fur, paws and pleading meows. "Whoa, calm down. Everyone gets their share." He tossed pieces of beef around, paying attention that each cat ate the same amount. Most of the meat didn't even hit the ground before it was greedily devoured. A few seconds later the bag was empty, Shōta surrounded by about two dozen purring, now fed, cats. They came to him for an after-meal pet and then scattered in all directions.

Shōta stood, dusting his hands and approached the overgrown front door. He laid his hand on the vines and after a moment they receded into the pots that flanked the entrance. He pushed the door open and stepped inside the dark store, the air thick with earthy fragrances and floral odors both acrid and sweet. Behind him the vines creaked and crackled as they assumed their position over the door.

His heartbeat quickened. He did not know what to say to his parents. Should he tell them the truth? Tell them that he nearly got himself expelled and now he would enter the school despised by both a teacher and the principal. Or should he leave them in the dark? Shōta had lied to them multiple times. He lied to them every time he told them he would go to sleep only to sneak out through the attic and go on his nightly patrols. He lied to them every morning when he pretended that nothing had happened. Although, he was not quite sure if he went as unnoticed as the thought he did. Mothers could be frighteningly perceptive from time to time and the spine-chilling looks his mother sometimes shot at him over the breakfast table spoke volumes of her ability to read him like an open book.

He swallowed hard, steadied his breathing and his heartbeat and marched through the darkness to the stairs. Up on the landing, he hung his coat and muffler on a branch that protruded from the wooden wall, took off his shoes and stowed them into the shelf next to his siblings'. Small feet shuffled behind the closed door, hushed words and a few giggles went back and forth.

Shōta smiled and sighed, half annoyed, half amused and opened the door.

"Attack!" The two small children bellowed their high-pitched war cry. The boy -Matsuo- was flung by his older twin at Shōta, he sailed through the air like a paper plane, impacting Shōta's chest with barely any force.

Shōta flopped to the ground with a gurgle.

"We got the hero!" Momiko ran up to him, her regal blanket-cape billowing behind her as she laughed maniacally.

Shōta chanced a look at Matsuo who was still slowly sailing downwards and activated his quirk. His little brother suddenly gained his mass back and dropped with a gasp. Shōta lunged, caught him before his landing and put him in a loose headlock. "I've got your partner, villain. Move a muscle and he's done for."

Momiko suppressed her gleeful expression and assumed a more serious one. "Let him go!" She demanded, pointing her finger at him.

"I told you: not a muscle. Say goodbye to your friend." He then tickled Matsuo, peals of laughter filling the entryway. He released the boy who staggered a few steps and dropped to the floor, eyes closed, tongue lolling out of his mouth.

"Nooooooooo!" The little girl dropped to her knees, fake crying. "You beat us again, hero!" She continued sobbing for a few seconds, her eyes darting upwards a few times to look at her older brother who was now sitting on the floor, his back leaning against the wall.

"Shō-nii!" She sprung forward, catching Shōta in big hug, burying her face in his chest. He ruffled her jet black hair. Matsuo returned from the dead and hugged him as well.

"Are you a hero now?" Round onyx eyes blinking up at him. Shōta felt a pang of guilt wrench his heart. "I just defeated you villains, didn't I?"

"Not like playing pretend!" Momiko looked up, pouting. "Like real, in the school!"

"Hmm." He smiled, standing up. "Not telling."

"Not fair!" They both said in unison. "Why not?"

"Stop yelling you two." A young woman peeked out from the door frame, her lavender hair pulled into a loose ponytail behind her head. "I've told you a million times: Mom's sleep- Oh Shōta, you're back!" She jogged to Shōta and hugged him tightly. "How'd the exam go?" She adjusted her red-rimmed glasses. "My goodness, what happened to you? You're covered in bruises!" She examined his face, her fingers prodding at his slightly swollen nose.

"Ow!" Shōta pushed her hands away. "I'll be fine, sis. This is nothing. The exam went pretty well."

"Well you've come home looking worse." She rested one hand on her hip and giggled. "I'll fix you something to eat. Come on."

"I got some snacks from Auntie too." Shōta pointed to the bag he had dropped next to the shoe-shelf.

Matsuo and Momiko were already rifling through it, picking out their favorites.

"That woman... how she hasn't gone bankrupt yet is beyond me." The older sister shook her head and headed inside. "Dad, Shōta's back! Ajisai, could you wake up mom?"

Shōta entered the living room behind his sister. Planters lined the south wall, next to the television, some held flowerbeds that ranged from one end of the color spectrum to the other, some held vegetables. In the center there grew a lone bonsai tree. The twins had settled around the kotatsu in the middle of the room and were already nibbling on some of the croquettes.

"Tsubaki wait, she's got the night shift again, she needs to sleep. I'll be here tomorrow too, I'm not going anywhere."

"I know, but she insisted. You don't know how bad she felt that she couldn't see you off today."

"And you know she'd be absolutely livid if none of us woke her up." A middle-aged man sauntered out of the kitchen, his short cropped hair and goatee a lighter shade than Tsubaki's . "How'd it go, son?" He laid a rough hand on Shōta's shoulder, the tips of his fingers green from working with plants all day. His gentle emerald eyes scanning his son's face.

"Hey dad. Alright, I guess..." He grimaced. And so the lie was told, he had to commit to it now. _Darn it!_

"Well, if being a hero doesn't work out, you can still become a florist!" He laughed heartily and gave his shoulder a firm squeeze.

Shōta let out a strained laugh. "Yeah..."

"You could take a shot at being a heroic florist." Shōta's oldest sibling Ajisai held up his hand as he came out of their parents' bedroom. "You smite any villains today lil bro?"

Shōta high fived him. "A couple." _Two hundred and forty-eight to be exact..._

Behind him their mother came lurching into the room, her eyes half closed. She groggily stumbled towards Shōta and fell into his arms, her messy raven hair brushing his face. "Hey honey." She mumbled into his shoulder.

"Hey mom." He hugged her. Now came the true test.

"How?"

"Good."

"Hurt?"

"Nah." Shōta thanked the gods that he didn't have to look her in the eyes.

"Good. Back to sleep. Talk tomorrow." She gave him a quick kiss and caressed his cheek before turning on the spot and vanishing back into the darkness of her bedroom.

Shōta let out the breath he had not noticed he had been holding in. _Seems she was too tired to notice anything. I hope._

"Come, sit down. Tell us about the exam." His father patted the couch next to where he sat. Shōta settled down next to him, sinking into the soft cushion. Recounting a heavily revised version of his day to the eagerly listening family. Halfway through the story the twins had gotten up and reenacted his fights against the drones, vaulting over the couches and running in circles around the room. The slightest of creaks came from his parents' bedroom and they instantly froze mid-motion and returned to the table on their tiptoes.

"-and then we gathered back at the buses." Shōta finished. His dad shook his head.

"I get the part about wanting to test your ability to improvise and such but just throwing you into the cold water like that seems a bit unreasonable." He closed his eyes.

"The whole hero world is unreasonable, dad." Ajisai commented from where he sat across them on the other couch. "What that examiner guy said was correct. I think they do good in weeding those out that can't handle situations like that. Or else there will be people in there who are not suited to hero work, possibly endangering their own life and that of others."

"Hmm..." Their father brooded for a long time before answering. "Maybe you're right."

"I think that we especially need reasonable people in this unreasonable world to keep a certain balance." Ajisai winked at Shōta. _Reasonable enough to lie to his own family? Are those too qualities of a hero, brother?_ Guilt welled up inside him again, though this time it was accompanied by a strange sense of pride thanks to Ajisai.

"Well enough of hero talk." The older brother continued. "Dad, can you pass me the remote?"

Their father was still brooding, arms crossed in front of his chest, eyes shut. He lifted his hand, making a waving motion with his fingers. From the wooden tabletop of the kotatsu, where the remote rested, sprouted a small bud out of which a few leaves popped out followed by a lanky branch that grew under the remote and over to Ajisai who picked it out from the leaves.

"Thanks." The branch regressed back into the table. The television blinked to life.

"-ty yearsss the firssst e-mail hasss been successssfully sent. 'The dark age of technology hasss ended!' declared the young scientissst in Massachusettsss." The reptilian news lady read from the papers in front of her, forked tongue periodically darting out of her mouth. "And although it wasss only sent from one computer to the one right next to it, this spellsss a groundbreaking advance for communication technology. In other newsss..."

"Man, that's radical." Ajisai mused. "What's next? A mobile telephone?"

"As if."

"Dinner's ready!" Tsubaki called out of the kitchen.

"Coming!"

The food was already arranged on the hardwood table that grew out of the floor. A steaming bowl of beef and potato stew, some assorted pickles and an extra big helping of rice. His stomach growled in anticipation

"Thanks sis."

Shōta sat in silence in front of his food, staring as the steam rose, carrying to his nose smells that made his mouth water. Grandpa always said: "After a hard day, a hearty meal is all you need."

The exam felt so distant now, like a fever dream. The drones he had fought, the climb up the elevator shaft, Overmind, getting treated like a villain, Haraki-san, everything. So unreal yet so vivid at the same time.

He breathed in deeply, savoring the fragrance, slapped his hands together and wolfed everything down with the fervor of a ravenous beast, only stopping for air from time to time.

* * *

Shōta lay in his futon, the blanket pulled up to his nose. After his meal he had taken a quick bath and headed straight to bed. The hot water had done wonders to his aching limbs, and he now savored the feeling of finally being able to lie down. He studied the rafters of his attic room. Muffled conversation and the sounds of television seeped through the attic hatch. He wondered if he should tell Eikichi and Kannako about everything, how they would react, what they would say. Shōta was not the greatest when it came to gauging emotions or reactions, even if he knew both of them since they were toddlers. His heavy eyelids slowly closed.

A stray thought shot into his mind. He had school tomorrow.

The tired teen groaned exasperatedly, rolling over. Should he call in sick? No, his attendance was already bad. What subjects did he have tomorrow? Biology, History... Math. _Oh man, not Mr. Kawashima._ He was the only teacher where Shōta could not get away with napping during lessons.

Couldn't they have at least given him a day off? His body now felt heavier than ever before, his arms and legs like sandbags. It would take a freight crane to get him out of bed tomorrow.

Faintly, from outside, he heard a rumbling. It became louder and louder as the sound approached. Shōta stood up, throwing his covers to the side and made for the door to the roof terrace. His bare feet pattering across the soft grass as he made his way through the lush garden. He arrived at the parapet and leaned over it, eyes scanning the city-scape. Through the streets streaked lights, the roaring of motors and honking horns blaring into the night sky.

At that moment, sound and cause rounded a corner and rode into the shopping district. Bikes roared through the street, the riders on top of them hooting and shouting madly as they raced on.

Shōta heard his mother open the window on the floor under him, throwing fierce curses after them before slamming the window shut again. She was not the only one.

His gaze wandered to the house where the bikers had first emerged. From the uppermost window he saw a few flashes of light. _Eikichi._

Dash, dash dot dot dot, dot dot dot. _TBS, tomorrow before school._

Dash, dot dash, dot dot dot, dot dash, dot dash dash dot. _TASAP, talk as soon as possible._

Shōta ran inside to get his torch. Outside again, he aimed it towards where the other light came from.

Dot dash dot. _R, roger._ He waited.

Another set of flashes came. Dash dot dash dash, dash dash dash, dash dot dash. _YOK, you OK?_

Dot dash. _A,_ _Affirmative._

Dot dash dot.

Shōta shivered and hurried inside and under the covers. Seems tomorrow would not be the boring school day he dreaded.

* * *

 **A/N: Thanks for reading! And thanks to the people who reviewed, favorited and followed! As always, reviews and feedback are very much appreaciated. Thanks go out to rubyxblade for proofreading and editing (Any left-over mistakes are mine). Please go and check out her work as well!**


	6. Chapter 6: Bōsōzoku

Bōsōzoku

Shōta woke to irritatingly loud birdsong from the terrace garden. His nose, the only thing peeking out from the covers, was nearly frozen stiff. He sniffled, scrunching up his nose, smelling on the air the crispness of winter, smoke from the chimneys, and bacon and eggs frying.

He lay motionless, comfortable in the warm cocoon of his covers. A heavy embrace that held him back from getting up to sate his growing hunger. The smells from below sang to him like sirens to ancient sailors. His stomach growled with such intensity that for a moment, he feared it would leave and go towards that tantalizing fragrance to eat without him.

"Shōta ! Come on down, breakfast's ready!" Tsubaki's voice came from under the attic hatch.

"Yeah." The groggy teen croaked, not sure if his sister had heard him.

No way around it now. Shōta slowly rolled over onto his side, flinging the blankets away to expose his body to the day. Spindly fingers of icy cold crawled over his exposed skin. He shuddered. _Nope._ Fingers betraying his freezing slowness, he scrabbled the covers back into place, and rolled back to the starting position. This would be difficult.

"Matsuo, go get your brother out of bed so we can eat." A chair was dragged over the ground, a few wooden thumps against the ceiling and a metallic click later, the attic hatch was pulled down, its rusty hinges creaking. Light exploded outwards into Shōta's dark roost among the rafters and a shock of black hair poked up from the portal.

"Morning, big bro!"

"Matsuo. No."

"Matsuo, yes." Tsubaki commanded from the living room. The boy lunged.

Shōta was still too dozy, his reflexes too slow and his limbs too unresponsive to dodge in time. The whole weight of Matsuo crash landed on top of him. A wordless grunt was punched from Shōta's throat. He sputtered, coughed and rolled off the futon, pushing the laughing child off of him.

"He's awake now!" Matsuo called down, activated his quirk and glided downwards through the opening.

"I hope so. Or else I'm sending up Momiko."

"Oh! Oh! Can I? Can I?"

The prospect of Momiko repeating what Matsuo had done drove the reluctant teen immediately off the floor and down the ladder. He rubbed his eyes as they slowly adjusted to light.

"Good morning! So glad you could join us." Tsubaki greeted him from the kitchen doorway. "Go wash your face already. Everybody's waiting for you, Mr. Hero."

Shōta scoffed. "I'll remember this when you have finals." He frowned at her through squinted eyes. "You're gonna be waking up to a Twinbomb every morning."

Tsubaki's laughter followed him through the hall along his way to the bathroom. The twins bolted past him, chanting "Twinbomb! Twinbomb! Twinbomb!" as they ran into the kitchen.

The grogginess was quickly washed down the drain by the cold water. Shōta brushed back wet strands of hair from his face to inspect the fading bruises which were still visible, albeit a lighter shade of blue now. He prodded his nose and it answered with a dull pain that thrummed into his cheekbones.

 _Damn door._

Slow "good mornings" were traded around the table when Shōta finally joined the rest of his family, save for his mother which was still stuck at work. Ajisai came over to the table and, with a hefty thud, set down a large cast iron skillet that held copious, still sizzling, amounts of thick bacon slices and sunny side up eggs. Crispy slices of bread were flung from the toaster with a metallic clang and passed around the table by the twins.

"Poor Yuko." Shōta's father sighed, setting down an earthenware cup half filled with his homemade herbal tea blend. "She couldn't fall asleep again after those bikers woke her up."

"Can't the police do anything about them?" Ajisai asked, spearing a piece of bacon on his fork.

"The shopping district association has made so many complaints already and the answer we get is always the same: 'We're working on it.'"

"Yeah right. They would've caught them already if that was the case."

"I don't think it's that easy." Tsubaki said through a mouthful of toast and egg, she swallowed before continuing. "They know the streets better than the average policeman and the police is not very subtle. As soon as they catch the slightest hint of police presence, poof! They're gone."

"You're awfully knowledgeable about bikers." The older teen eyed his sister, one eyebrow raised.

"The other girls in my grade are absolutely smitten with them." Tsubaki rolled her eyes.

"The _other_ girls. Right..." Ajisai interjected but she continued, ignoring him.

"A lot of stories and rumors are being told around the school, most of it nonsense- but there are always some facts behind them."

Shōta listened quietly whilst he filled his younger siblings' plates with eggs and bacon. There had always been biker gangs around but their presence had increased at a worrying rate the last few months. They'd race each other, sometimes get into fights -as much among their own ranks as with outsiders- and vandalize the odd park and statue. Hangouts and gathering spots were widely known and avoided and so they kept to themselves.

Outcasts and delinquents, exiled either by choice or by circumstance they banded together and somehow eked out a chaotic existence outside an economy and society that did not want them. Shōta found it hard to sympathize with them. Granted, he did not know every individual life story, and some of these youths might have all the right in the world to be angry if they had been unfairly treated and wronged, but letting out your rage and discontent so wildly and aimless on people that had not done a single thing to contribute to their state seemed idiotic.

"Well, whatever it is they do, I only want them to stop coming through here and waking up your mother when she's trying to rest."

"Lectures start later today so I'll make dinner." Ajisai stood up, gathering up his empty plate.

Shōta finished the rest of his much needed breakfast in two big bites and made for his room.

"Shōta," He stopped when his father called him. "I know you are still exhausted from yesterday, but I need your help after school. Tsubaki too."

"Sure."

"No problem dad." They answered. Their father stood, embracing them both in one of his famous, asphyxiating dad-hugs.

"Thanks, I have the best kids in the world." He gave them a squeeze and let them go when the twins complained that, they too, were the best kids and deserved a hug. They squealed and laughed as they were picked up in his strong arms and swung around.

Shōta climbed the ladder to his room and threw on his uniform. He paused to look out the small window that faced the garden, thoughts wandering to his mother.

Her shift ended in three hours, until then she would be tending to patients while a head splitting migraine racked her very being. _We're working on it._ Shōta scoffed as he threw his books into the school bag. He knew how the police worked in his neighborhood- heck, in the entire ward! He would not simply sit down and wait for them to do something. His mother was suffering because some jackasses thought it fun to ride around quiet neighborhoods with their hellishly loud bikes. A dangerous mix of determination and anger boiled inside him, churning like a storm cloud. The Heroes would only mobilize if there was a Villain and if the police could not be bothered to do anything about it; Shōta _would._

* * *

Tsubaki and Shōta waved at the twins after dropping them off in front of the grade school. They eagerly waved back before falling in with the other kids and disappeared into the school building.

They continued down their own path in silence until Shōta broke it.

"Sis."

"Hm?"

"You said something about rumors at breakfast. Bikers and such."

"Oh yeah. They're called Bōsōzoku, the _wild_ tribe." Tsubaki accentuated the word wild by plowing her boot through a pile of dirty snow, sending grey clumps arcing away and splashing down on the pavement before them.

"Is it one big gang?"

"No, that's more like the name of the movement, I guess? Like Rock 'n' Roll! A lot of small gangs are just roaming around, though the large ones supposedly have bases and hundreds of members."

 _That sounds... problematic._ No matter though, he wasn't one to shy away even when the numbers were against him. Especially when he had something or someone to protect.

"How many large ones are there?"

"I don't know. That's the only thing I've picked up hearing the other's gossip. Not much space for rumors in my head with the upcoming exams and all." His sister sighed.

Figures. Tsubaki isn't one to pay much heed to such things.

"Why so interested in them?" Shōta was startled out of his thoughts by Tsubaki. He had nearly forgotten about her.

"Just curious, is all." He said, trying to sound dismissive.

Her brow furrowed, but she did not press it further, though Shōta knew his sister would have her suspicions. She always did. The insight she had into his mind resembled their mother's more and more.

Suspicious as she may be of any plans he might be hatching, Shōta was still missing his co-conspirator.

Eikichi was uncharacteristically late today. Usually they'd go together to school but he had not showed up, even though he was the one who suggested they meet as soon as possible. The only reason he might have overslept was studying. U.A.'s support course demanded far more subjects and a higher score average to enroll than the Hero course, and was second only to the department of management.

Thankfully, Shōta was done with studying his butt off -for now at least- now he just had to wait for his friends to pass and they'd be all together at U.A.. Just the thought filled him with a sense of giddy anticipation. It had been decided for years now, ever since Shōta had set his mind on becoming a hero, that they would open up their own agency. Kanako would manage the business, Eikichi would make the gadgets for Shōta and he would be out doing the hero-work. From the day they met eleven years ago they had been a team and that would not change, be it U.A. or the Hero world.

He felt Tsubaki's eyes on him again and wiped off his face the smile he had not noticed.

"You're weird today. Did you hit your head somewhere yesterday?" Tsubaki said, a slight hint of smugness in her voice.

"Multiple times." He tapped at his temples lightly with his knuckles. "I hardly feel a thing anymore."

His sister laughed. "No wonder, after so many brawls and missed jumps." She sighed, the echo of her laughter dissipating into the clouded sky above. "Can't remember a time when you _didn't_ come home with a scraped knee or a bruise somewhere. Except that time after you broke your arm and then only because mom had you under constant surveillance."

"I hate being grounded."

"At least that'll stop, now that you're going to be a hero."

"Suppose I can defeat Villains by asking?" Shōta raised an eyebrow.

"You could try asking _nicely_." The girl smirked.

"Revolutionary." He deadpanned. "I'll forward your suggestion to the Department of Heroics."

"We'll live like kings off the royalties!" Tsubaki threw up her arms, giggling. Shōta had to chuckle too, he then facepalmed in realization.

"Please tell me that pun wasn't intentional."

"You bet it was."

Shōta sighed, drained of what good mood he had, little as it already was this morning. "Let's just get to school."

After a few minutes they arrived. Behind the gate and wall stood two big -and very much in need of renovations-buildings that shared a schoolyard. There they split up, Tsubaki went into the one for high-schoolers and Shōta continued towards the middle-school.

"Aizawa Shōta!" A girl called to him from behind, making him wince. He stopped in his tracks and turned around slowly.

The owner of the voice crossed the distance quickly, auburn hair streaming behind her, and hugged Shōta.

"I told you to call when you got home." Kanako mumbled into his coat, her head barely reaching his chest even with the bobble of her knit cap.

"Tired, forgot to do it." It was the truth, in part. He _had_ forgotten, but even if it had not escaped his mind, he would not have called her at home. Kanako's mother hated him, she always had, though she did not show it when they were little. The last few years however, along with Shōta's infamy, rose her dislike for him. To her he was a troublemaker, a delinquent, and a danger to her sweet daughter.

A sharp pain ran through his side and she let him go, her hazel eyes looking up at him accusingly.

"Right, sorry." He rubbed the spot where his childhood friend had pinched him. "I'm fine Kana." He added when he saw her eyes scanning his face, stopping briefly at his bruises.

"My fault for worrying then," she huffed, letting go of him. Then suddenly her face went from annoyed to utterly horrified. "Don't tell me you wore that thing to the exam yesterday." She pointed at his muffler.

"I did, why?"

She had knitted it for him some three years ago -her first attempt at it after her grandma had showed her- and he had proudly worn the terribly misshapen thing ever since. To the untrained eye, the reindeers were red-nosed giraffes and the focal point, a verdantly green Christmas tree, was instead a man-hungry blob. Simpletons. The twinned facts that he could wrap it around his neck four times and keep even the harshest temperatures away were it's true selling points.

"Oh man..." Dainty hands moved to cover her face. "Because it's hideous! Isn't it embarrassing to wear something like that?"

"For you maybe."

"I'll knit you a new one." She extended her arm towards him, "So give me that." Her fingers stretched out, eager to grasp her disdained creation.

"No."

"Please." Her eyes were those of a desperate person. "I'll knit in the logo of your favorite Hero. Who is it? Granium? Noxblast?" She offered.

"Now that _would_ be embarrassing." He shuddered just at the thought of parading around with the symbol of one of those 'celebrity' Heroes. "Besides, I don't have a favorite Hero."

Kanako's arm jabbed forward. Shōta reacted swiftly, his childhood friend grasping only at air as he stepped to the side, and grabbed the folded part of her knit cap, pulling it down over her face. She hopped once, then again before regaining her balance. She pushed the rim back, shooting him an angry glare.

"You're slow." Shōta mocked.

"And you're mean." She turned around in a huff.

Shōta knew his friend well enough to know that if he didn't say anything now, she would pout the rest of the week, only talking to him to inform him how much of a meanie he was. He feared she would eventually get the muffler, rip it to shreds and toss those into a pyre.

"How about we make a compromise?" he asked and continued when she didn't turn around. "You knit me a new one and I'll wear it, but I get to keep the old one."

She turned just enough to give him a sideways look. "Why are you both so adamant about keeping those ugly things?"

"Sentimental value."

Kanako groaned. "Alright, I'll take the deal. If you wanna keep it, keep it. Just promise me you'll stuff it down into the deepest drawer you can find and forget about it." She shook her head. "Anyway, how'd the exam go?"

"I'll tell you both. Later, when Eikichi gets here."

The girl looked behind him."Where _is_ he?"

"Your boyfriend's late."

"Wha-?! He's not my-!" A fierce blush spread over her face."Not so loud, you dummy!" She looked around the schoolyard, eyes wide.

"Relax, nobody heard us." He reassured her. Kanako opened her mouth, probably to reprimand him, but he cut her off before she could say anything by walking off towards the entrance. His childhood friend threw mumbled curses at the back of his head but he soldiered on, inside and out of the cold.

Finally, at the shoe-boxes she deigned to talk to him again. "Do you know why he's late?"

Shōta slammed the locker shut after sliding on his indoor shoes."My bet is he studied till early in the morning." He ascended the stairs with wide steps, his friend struggling to keep up behind him.

"Ugh, please don't remind me." Only now did Shōta notice the dark circles under her round eyes as she caught up to him on the third floor, leaning on her knees and panting. "I've started dreaming in math recently."

The third year classroom was as loud as usual but when Shōta entered through the sliding door, it got instantly quiet. His classmates sent a few apprehensive glances his way and whispered, turning away as soon as he met their gazes. Unfazed, Kanako pranced over to her group of girlfriends and started chattering gleefully, and the class slowly returned to its former volume level though there lingered a tangible sense of uneasiness. Shōta proceeded to back of the class and sat at his desk in the middle column.

Just then Mr. Kawashima came striding through the sliding door. "Settle down, class!" The students scattered to their seats.

" _He's_ in a good mood again." Kanako whispered as she settled down at the desk next to Shōta. "His wife must've been nagging him again."

Just as the teacher was about to close the door, Eikichi came sliding in, he ducked beneath Kawashima's arm and skidded to a halt.

"Gattai," the teacher frowned at him from beneath his bushy grey brows. "You're late."

 _Ring!_

The bell announced the start of class. "Technically, Mr. Kawashima, I am not late until-"

Kawashima's frown deepened. "Sit. Down."

"Yes, sir!" He sat down on his front row seat, but not before turning around to flash his two friends a smile almost as shiny as his chrome skin. The aspiring mechanic suffered from a severe case of bedhead, tufts of platinum hair jutted out in every direction and his clothes looked just as disheveled. Meticulous as he was in his tinkering and timing -apart from today at least- grooming took mostly last place in his daily routine.

Kawashima assured himself that he had the class' undivided attention with a cursory glance, set the chalk against the blackboard and started what would be Shōta's torture for the next hour.

* * *

Ashen clouds raced across the sky, whispering of a rainstorm yet to come. Chalk groaned against the blackboard, the teacher's practiced motions a monotonous cadence in the still classroom. Shōta was bored, bored out of his mind. His gaze swept over the classroom, desperate for something to alleviate his boredom, stopping briefly to look at Eikichi. His eyes were glued to the equations scrawled on the board, pen darting feverishly over the creased notebook.

Mos Espa municipal junior high stood out from its surroundings, towering over the squat buildings of the ghetto. The view from his senior classroom on the third floor was too familiar to be of interest. His efforts to find something to occupy himself with proving fruitless. Reluctantly, he turned his attention back to the teacher.

Suddenly he caught the slightest sound from outside, a soft rumble not unlike the one from yesterday evening. Shōta focused on it, every other sound around him faded. The rumble was approaching and slowly gained volume until it was a roar that thundered through the streets, panicked pigeons rising along its path. Shōta shot up and made for the window just in time to see the school's gate getting smashed open, three bikes pouring in from the opening, each rider meaner looking than the next. The machines were painted white, sharp aggressive brushstrokes slashed blood red kanji characters across the fairings and the overly raised back support of the seats. The same characters adorned the streaming coats the bikers wore as they drove in circles honking their horns. One of them swung around what looked like an old water pipe.

The rest of the students had joined Shōta at the window, the sound of their math teacher commanding them to sit back down drowned out by the excited muttering. The bikers stopped in the middle of the schoolyard and stepped off their bikes. The leader who -like the other two- wore a surgical mask, pointed to Shōta's classroom and made a 'come-here' motion with his hand. In that moment they locked eyes and he recognized the leader. Yasuhiro Motoki.

"Son of a..." He should have figured Motoki would be jumping in on the trend. Quite brave of him to show up here after Shōta had humiliated him two years ago. Then again, his old nemesis was known for many things, but intelligence was never one of his virtues. But why was he challenging him _now?_ Did he feel stronger with the two numbskulls at his back and the bike under his butt?

With a shock, he realized that the signal was not for him. The sliding door behind him slammed shut before he could see who had left, but he already knew who it was.

A teacher had rushed down to confront the leader. There was a certain familiarity between the two men as they argued. After a short back and forth, the biker punched the older teacher square in the mouth, much to the delight of his underlings.

Shōta slid the window open and jumped out, aiming for the closest tree. The gasps of his classmates disappeared behind him as he sailed downwards. He swung off a sturdy branch that rained snow down upon him as he landed, rolling to a crouch on the ground.

A repulsive smile formed across the pinched face of the one leading. "Look who we have here." He laughed, pulling down the mask. "Aizawa Shōta."

"You join a biker gang now, Motoki?" Shōta spat as he jogged over to the teacher, who was profusely bleeding from his lip, to help him up.

" _Founded_ , not joined." The older teen corrected him.

"Didn't know three guys on shoddy bikes classified as a gang."

"We're four, not three." He nodded towards the school entrance. Shōta turned to see the one that had exited his classroom before, slowly making his way over.

"Come on over lil brother."

Genta Motoki's head hung low as he approached, his eyes darting from his classmate to his older brother. He was hesitant, that much Shōta could tell, and for good reason. Genta did not resemble his brother in the slightest. He was quiet, polite, and good with his studies; the polar opposite from the elder Motoki.

Shōta watched the other boy as he passed, and could not fathom this sudden change in heart.. The boy climbed onto the bike, behind his brother who smiled smugly, revealing a missing front tooth on his upper jaw.

"By the way, how's your wimpy worm of a big brother doing?" The gang leader sneered.

"He's doing fine. He's going to college. Unlike you, he's making something of himself. How's that gap in your teeth doing?" The slowly reddening biker subconsciously licked the gums where the tooth had been."Want me to make it bigger? Maybe you can fit your sippy cup through it."

"Boss, you just gonna sit there and take that from hi-" The lackey was interrupted by Motoki tearing the water pipe from his hands. He reached back to swing, but stopped short in front Shōta, who now stood a whole head taller than him. Two years ago it had been the exact opposite. Shōta closed the rest of the distance, their faces mere centimeters apart as he looked down at him. "If you want me to embarrass you in front of the whole school again, go ahead, swing."

A pulsing vein now bulged on Motoki's neck, his breathing came fast but he did not speak. He looked Shōta in the eyes and then at the windows at which the whole student body had gathered. Motoki's grip eased around the pipe and he took a step back.

"One more thing." Shōta grabbed him by the collar of his coat and with a sharp tug pulled him close again. "Did you ride through our neighborhood yesterday?"

"No." The biker hissed. _What a shame._ Shōta sorely wished it had been this piss pot.

"Good. You know what'll happen if you do." He pushed him away. Motoki staggered back and straddled his machine. The two other boys shared a disappointed glance before the four of them drove off.

Shōta watched them -ignoring Kawashima who screamed at him from the window to get back inside immediately- until they rounded a corner. For a moment he had hoped that his search had come to an early end but things were never that easy. _Or were they?_

* * *

 **A/N: Thanks for reading! And thanks to the people who reviewed, favorited and followed! Reviews and constructive criticism are very much appreaciated. Many thanks to rubyxblade for proofreading and editing (Any left-over mistakes are mine). Please go and check out her work as well!**


	7. Chapter 7: A Comfortable Silence

A Comfortable Silence

Shōta pushed aside the sign that prohibited access to the rooftop during winter and ascended the stairs, followed by his two friends. At the top he rummaged around in his pockets and pulled two bobby pins which he inserted into the lock. With practised motions he raised the tumblers one by one, each clicking into place, held up by the tension he put on the lock with the other pin. After the last click sounded from it, Shōta turned the tension pin and opened the door. Cold air immediately assaulted him, nipping at his face as if it wanted to devour it. He felt a tad guilty for using Tsubaki's hairpins as lockpicks; but then again she shouldn't have strewn them around the house. Shōta could swear the damn things were everywhere, most of the time exactly where he sat down on the couch perfectly positioned to poke him in the butt. The group stepped out and sat down on some old desks they had pushed under the awning that protected them from the light snowfall. They huddled together, shoulder to shoulder, with Kanako in the middle because she would always get cold easily.

"How you avoided detention still escapes me." She lead off. "Kawashima was fuming."

"Probably only because you saved Mr. Agano a few more bruises, although he didn't seem too thankful either," Eikichi added. "Anyway, what was that with Motoki? The bikes and all that."

Shōta stared ahead, through the snowfall, thinking for a moment before answering slowly. "Pathetic, first and foremost." He snorted in disdain. "Also, unsurprising, for him at least."

"But Genta?" Kanako finished Shōta's thought. "He always adored his brother, despite being aware of what he was doing -at least most of the time-, but never tagged along."

"You think he finally succumbed to his brother's influence?" Eikichi asked.

"No, Genta's a sweet boy. Always has been, he would never-"

"Blackmail then." He interrupted, his voice cutting the air with vehemence.

Kana and Shōta turned slowly to look at their friend with furrowed brows.

"What? You think he wouldn't stoop that low?"

"Well maybe..." Kana snugged her muffler close, "but what is there to blackmail Genta with? His good grades or how diligently he works at the convenience store after school?" She laughed.

Shōta heard Eikichi take a deep breath which he knew announced one of his "point proving" rants so he quickly intervened.

"Whatever the case, something's not right about this."

"Yeah... I'm kinda worried about Genta." Kana cast her eyes downwards, her finger picking at something on the desk that she flicked away.

Silence fell over the three, Eikichi pouted; not being able to prove his point had put him in a mood. Shōta followed the snowflakes as they sailed down and melted into the sludgy puddles, each creating a small wave that quickly dissipated where they collided. His thoughts raced the distant sound of the train thundering through the pervasive thrum of the city.

Motoki had not forced Genta into doing anything. He bullied and stole, delighted in breaking things and hurting people but he still cared for his baby brother. They both came from a very difficult household and that had brought them close together. And that was the problem.

Genta didn't like that side of his brother. Whenever Motoki left after inflicting his company wherever he fancied, his little brother was there to fix what he could and to apologise. Profusely. This was not some rebellious phase or misguided adoration that led Genta to join his brother on that bike. Shōta's pondering came to a close with the abrupt change in conversation.

"Hey Shōta, don't you wanna tell us about the exam?" Eikichi asked excitedly, his mood disappearing as fast as it had come. Shōta had already lied to his parents about it and thought about lying to his friends too, if only for the sake of them not getting anxious before their entrance exams. Now that they sat next to him, their expectant gazes fixated on him he just couldn't. He sighed, resigning himself to the inevitable lecture he would get from them after he was done.

"Sure, but it's a bit complicated."

The young hero-to-be recounted yesterday's happenings to his intently listening friends, leaving out no detail. Their expressions were a sight to behold and Shōta had to, more than once, stop himself from laughing as he watched their faces embark on a journey from excitement, to 'on the edge of their seat', to absolute mortification.

"Oh my god!" Kana left her seat between the two boys, hands grasping her head. "You ticked off a teacher at U.A.. I cannot believe it." She paced around the rooftop, drawing circles in the fresh powder. "I mean, I was sure you would eventually, but not before even enrolling there!"

Eikichi mumbled next to Shōta. "These 'drones' sound interesting. A quirk that creates autonomous and rudimentary intelligent robots that can follow simple orders and change their behaviour when certain parameters are met..." He trailed off in another direction than Kana.

"It's bad enough that you ambushed and tied him up, but then he also was humiliated in front of the other teachers?" Kana's voice picked up pace and volume, "Oh no, no, no, no!" The panicking girl stopped and shook her head.

Shōta was now starting to deeply regret telling them about it, but still, better now than at U.A.. At least now they could prepare themselves for what was coming.

The other boy finally snapped out of his trance and spoke up. "Calm down Kana, it's gonna be alright." He tried to sound reassuring but Shōta could sense his apprehensiveness.

"No, it's not that simple! The next three years are absolutely crucial for your success in the hero world and he can make them an absolute hell if he wants to, I'm sure of it." She turned to look at Shōta, her serious gaze boring holes into the young boy. "Why are you always so reckless?"

"Well, technically he wasn't reckless. His hypothesis, while a bit far fetched, was sound given the context of the situ-"

Kanako whirled around. "Be quiet, Eikichi!"

Shota shot a look between both his friends, "Guys..." It had not really occurred to him that his actions had not only jeopardized _his_ time at U.A., but his friends' as well. As soon as they'd associate with him at school, they would immediately fall into Overmind's sights as well. The teen had hoped that telling the truth to his friends would at least alleviate some of the guilt that racked his being, only for it to have the exact opposite effect.

Kana and Eikichi were now arguing in earnest, the petite girl was telling off the chrome skinned boy who was having none of it, trying to cut through her wild gesturing with his arguments.

"Guys!" His friends turned to look at him, eyes ablaze with uncertainty and frustration. "I'm... sorry. I just wanted to do well on the exam."

Kana's expression fell then, and she was silent for a moment. She breathed in deeply, collecting herself. "No, Shōta. _I'm_ sorry, I shouldn't have panicked like that." The girl shook her head and approached him with slow steps. "We promised, didn't we? No matter what happens, no matter what we face, we'll do it..."

"Together." Said the three teens in unison.

"You may be a big dummy who likes to make messes, but it's our job to fix 'em. And nothing will change that." The girl gave a wide smile. She and Eikichi came together, arms placed on each others' shoulders, the other outstretched, inviting Shōta.

"If we are together, I am certain we will see this through!" Eikichi added.

Shōta closed the circle, having to bend down to reach Kana. The girl pulled the boys in with unexpected strength. Their foreheads bonked together quite sharply and they all winced.

"Alright!" Kana's eyes brimmed with tears from the pain but she gritted her teeth and bared with it. "We're gonna do this, you guys!" She gave her friends a stern look and Shōta's heart soared with hopefulness. "Ready?" They nodded.

"PLUS ULTRA!" The group jumped, arms flying up to the sky. Whatever wicked tendrils had constricted his gut since the day before were seared away in that instant.

The chime sounded to signal the end of the break and the group slowly made their way back down to the classroom. _Nothing will stop us from succeeding._ Shōta watched his friends chat as they walked in front, the heavy weight now finally lifted from his heart. For a moment it was as if he could take on the whole world. Until he sat down at his desk again and the euphoria faded slightly as the exertion from yesterday washed over him again. The final nail in his coffin entered the classroom in the form of their classic literature teacher and would be hammered in by the famous poet Kakinomoto no Hitomaro himself.

Eikichi had already his notebooks out and the pen ready to write. Next to Shōta, Kana examined the red spot on her forehead in her pocket mirror, wincing as she pressed her finger against it.

"Nothing will stop us..." He whispered. "No...thing..." The exasperated boy rested his head on the desk, a tired sigh escaping his mouth.

* * *

Shōta hastily said his goodbyes to his friends and bolted out of the classroom. Usually they'd head home together but there was no time for that now. Dinner waited for him at home and after that, work. The tired teen suppressed the sigh that welled up inside him and took his usual route over the rooftops. A thought hit him as he was sliding down a slanted tin roof. Motoki's place was right around the corner. Shōta changed direction mid-slide, pushing off at an angle and using a telephone pole as a stepping stone to cross over the wide street. A few jumps later the seedy apartment building came into view. The house sagged on the corner of the block amidst other equally modest housings. He lunged off the opposite roof, catching and pulling himself up on the railing of the second floor, rusty iron groaning dangerously as he stepped onto the walkway.

He rung the bell and watched a few children play tag down the road as he waited. After a moment the door barely cracked open, stopped by a few heavy chains from opening completely. Behind it lurked a pair of half lidded eyes that searched his face for a moment, before suddenly widening with recognition and the door slammed shut again. The chains were pulled away and the door opened fully to reveal a woman in her late thirties wearing baggy pyjamas. "Shōta, what a nice surprise." The woman greeted him, her beautiful features easing naturally into a tired, but genuinely warm smile.

"Good afternoon Mrs. Motoki. Sorry if I-" He coughed. "I am terribly sorry if I woke you up." Shōta felt bad now, he was so fixated on his purpose to come here that he disregarded that Genta's mom worked late hours. The women that sometimes gathered at the flower shop _loved_ to gossip, and it was there that he had overheard that apparently, she worked as a hostess at a cabaret down town. They would yap about it constantly, about how improper it was and throw around insults with a nauseating air of superiority.

Not everybody had been blessed with the proper education and opportunities, scarce as those things were right after the rebellion had finally ended some twenty years ago. And those unblessed somebodies had to make do with whatever means they had at their disposal. Shōta understood that, for a long time his parents had been struggling too. Beyond his understanding however was why the other women would not stop prattling on about her. When asked about it his mother only said that they were jealous. Mrs Motoki _was_ a very beautiful woman but was that really a reason to be trashing her at every opportunity? Shōta thought his mom was even prettier but the gossipers got along with her just fine. He had pressed her further but the only answer he got was one that he had come to despise: "You'll get it when you're older."

"No it's alright, Shōta. The uh… school called me." The smile faded and worry washed over her face like a cold wave. "I'm so sorry." She bowed her head.

"No need to apologize." Her reassured her, shaking his head. _Figures she would have that reaction_. Yasuhiro had bullied Shōta's older brother to the point of him being driven to despair, the kind of despair one faces when their mental fortitude has been exhausted, mere millimetres from the precipice of an abyss from whence return was impossible.

Both of his older siblings had it hard back then. They were both ostracized, bullied and abused. And for what? For being quirkless.

Two years ago was when Shōta had had enough of it. Two years ago the middle schooler had waltzed into the the high school during the break, grabbed the then senior Yasuhiro and beat him senseless in the school yard for everyone to see. And that had only been the start of the chain of events that had earned him his infamy.

Mrs. Motoki had been devastated when she learned what her son had been doing. Especially since she was good friends with Shōta's mom. He could tell. _She still feels so bad for it. Poor poor Mrs. Motoki._

"So... what can I do for you." The woman stammered.

"I actually want to ask you about Genta. Have you noticed anything different about him recently?"

"The school told me about what happened today." Her gaze fell to the ground, dejected. "But… I can't imagine why he would- no he acted like always…then again, I haven't been home to see him a lot lately. Oh no… what am I doing?" She let out a drawn out sigh that sounded more like a pained moan, her face twisting into a grimace. "Yasuhiro hasn't been home for weeks, I don't know what he's been up to." The anxious mother took a deep breath and looked up at Shōta again, now a bit more composed. "He always had a bad influence on Genta but he never went along with anything. As his mother I should know what happened with him but I've just been working so much…" She sighed deeply. "I'm sorry Shōta, thank you for worrying about Genta, even after... everything that's happened." She apologized.

"It's okay, I'll try and look out for him. Take care Mrs. Motoki."

"You too." The smile returned to her face. "Greet your mom for me, will you?" She whispered and the door pulled shut.

* * *

"Finally."

Shōta had barely entered the house when his mom came skating out of the living room, her quirk decreasing the friction between her slippers and the floor. She bumped into her son and promptly wrapped her arms around him.

"Hi mom."

"Hey."

A few moments passed in total silence.

"Mom?"

"Hm?"

"You can let go now."

"Don't feel like it."

Shōta tried to squirm free but she activated her quirk again, this time increasing the friction, making it impossible for him to escape. He knew better than to use his own quirk on her so he squeezed her a bit tighter.

"Can't breathe."

"Let go then. I'm hungry."

She sighed into his chest and finally let go. "Mr. Hero now too cool to hug his mum? I raised you better." She stated monotonously.

"Restraining your child by quirk. Peak parenting, mom."

"Smarty pants." The raven haired woman scoffed, but smiled. "Come on, Ajisai made Curry."

The twins and Tsubaki sat at the Kotatsu, hunched over their homework, with their father snoring on the sofa. Shōta greeted his siblings quietly and followed his mother into the kitchen where the smell of Aji's curry embraced him.

He sat down at the table as his mother brought him a steaming plate on which sat a heap of rice covered in cooked vegetables, beef and the rich golden sauce.

"Radish?"

"Mhm."

She walked over to the packed pantry that sprouted from the wall to pick out a small jar that, thanks to her quirk, rested perfectly perpendicular to the inner side wall of the cupboard.

She brought it over and sat down opposite of him. Shōta thanked his brother for the meal and dug in with fervour. A comfortable silence fell between them, a silence they had lovingly shared for fifteen years now. From the point where Shōta can remember, there had always been an intrinsic understanding between the two. Just a look, a gesture there, a nod here and they knew what the other wanted to say. Silence was the norm, their parent-to-child talk. Silence was familiar, comfortable. Usually at least. For now the teen found himself wishing that his mother would at least say _something._

He could feel her burning gaze on his head while he ate. Like the rogue ray of sunshine that managed to wiggle past the blinds on a Sunday morning to fry that one particular spot on his face when he wanted to sleep in.

The silence he had come to appreciate so much was now a deafening droning. He winced every time the spoon hit the plate a little too hard, but despite his efforts to gingerly pick up the food he was too hungry to hold back. His chewing as loud as a rock grinder in his ears hammered along to the rhythm of the clock behind him on the wall, each tick a beat of a war drum. _Did she notice yesterday? No,she was too sleepy, she couldn't have..._ His head lifted to chance a look at her but he was too afraid of what would await him so he kept on shovelling in food. _Darn Aji, that's some good curry._

"So..."

"Ye-!" Shōta startled, nearly choking on a piece of potato.

"Did you disinfect it properly?"

Shōta looked up as he tried with every fibre of his being to stay alive to see his mother, head resting on her hand, pointing at his nose. He swallowed hard before answering.

"First aid staff did that."

"Yesterday you said you weren't hurt." She looked him up and down without moving her head. "Doesn't look like it."

"It's nothing." Unfazed by the near death experience he picked up his spoon and continued eating. "I've looked worse." He added when his mother stayed silent.

She chuckled. "That you have."

Silence.

 _Alright._ Shōta thought. Not as pleasant as usual, but slightly less menacing, although the tension was still palpable.

"So the exam..."

 _Oh crap..._

"Your father told me about it, sounded very dangerous for just an entrance exam."

"I guess."

"How'd you do?"

 _Here we go..._

"I did alright." Seemingly unsatisfied with his answer she gave him a pointed look that meant 'keep going'. "I asked a kid next to me on the bus and he had about the same amount of points. And he seemed pretty capable." Well he hadn't exactly looked like the most competent one from the first impression he gave. _The most annoying one perhaps._ Still, despite the apparently deceptive appearance, he _had_ scored quite above the passing average.

"Then why'd you look so down yesterday?" Genuine concern was mixed in to the suspicion in her voice.

Shōta froze. _She_ _ **did**_ _notice!_

"I was tired."

"I raised you, Shōta. I can tell the difference." She leaned closer to him over the table. "You know you can talk to me, right?" A caring smile, as light as a gentle breeze eased the tension.

 _Should I? No, I can't. Not after I've lied already. But..._

Salvation came in the form of his father sauntering into the kitchen as he yawned loudly.

"Yuuko," He scratched his belly. "Is Shōta- Oh, you're back!"

"Yeah, I just finished eating. I'm ready to go." Relieved, Shōta stood up and put his plate into sink.

"Good, I'll wait down at the shop then." The older man turned and walked out into the living room. "Tsubaki! Get ready, we're leaving soon!"

Shōta wanted to follow him but he could'nt simply leave in the middle of the conversation.

"I promise I'm alright, mom. I was just anxious yesterday." He gave her a quick hug that she returned.

"Well, you seem fine now." She sighed and gave him a squeeze.

"Mrs. Motoki says hello. I met her on the way home, she looked pretty tired."

His mother smiled wryly at the mention of the name. "Oh, that's nice. I ought to invite her over for tea again some time." She said more to herself, eyes looking into the distance as she rubbed her hands slowly. When she looked up again, Shōta was already gone.

* * *

Tsubaki and Shōta joined their father down in the store where they loaded some pots, sacks of potting soil and a vast array of packaged flower seeds into the van. The car had seen better days, the white lacquer was flaking off in big chunks revealing rusty patches underneath and the right mirror was replaced by a branch that grew out of a pot that was wedged into the glove compartment which held the mirror in its gnarled grasp.

The siblings squeezed onto the passenger seat bench and when Tsubaki closed the door, Shōta half expected it to fall off when it slammed against the punished body of the car. Their father got on and after a few failed tries the van finally started up. Repeating today's trend of crammed seating arrangements he was wedged in between his sister and father. Who, each time he changed gears, accidentally smacked the lever across his son's knee. He didn't remember there being so little space in here. Had he grown again?

"Sis," Shōta asked after a while. "Did you put on some weight?" He shifted against her as if he was trying to find more space.

"Wha-" Tsubaki stared at him, completely flabbergasted. Shōta was taken aback for a moment too, normally she'd play along with it, that's how they teased each other. Her cheeks flushed a bright crimson and she turned to look out the window. "Well I'm mostly at home now studying... and snacking... a lot."

"Shōta, you have to be more delicate around women." The older man reprimanded gently, a thick calloused finger rising from the steering wheel to accentuate his point.

"Sorry, sis. It was just a joke, I..."

"No, it's okay," she smiled sheepishly, " you're right, I _did_ put on a few more grams than I'd like." She patted her belly. "I envy people people like you who can eat and eat and just don't get fat. Although..." The bespectacled girl studied him for a minute. "You grew again, didn't you? Look how tall and broad shouldered you've become!"

"Remember when all three of you fit on that seat?" Their father chuckled.

"Aji and me next to each other and lil Shōta on my lap." She giggled and threw her arm around Shōta's neck to pull him close into a hug. "He'd follow us around on his little feet going 'Sis! Bro! Lemme help!' And we would give him small things to carry and he was so proud when he was done. Gosh you were so cute!" She squealed and tightened her hug. Shōta wanted to pull away but still felt a bit guilty for before so he begrudgingly accepted his new uncomfortable position when Tsubaki rested her head against his.

After a moment she sighed. "And now look at him, a strapping young man about to become a hero."

Just then they heard a loud sniffle next to them.

"Yeah... my kids are starting to grow up." Their father said shakily, his voice a deep baritone. "Oh darn it, you've gone ahead and made your father all emotional." He sniffled again and wiped his reddening nose with his wrist.

"Oh Dad, we talked about this when Aji went to college!" She released her little brother. "You've got to look on the bright side!"

"Easy for you to say, in a couple of months you'll graduate too and then, and then…" He choked down a sob.

"I won't just disappear into the sunset after the graduation ceremony!"

"You don't know that." Smack! The lever hit Shōta across the knee. "Sorry, son. But what If your college is far away? You'll have to move away and what am I gonna do without my baby girl?" He sobbed.

Shōta brought a palm to his forehead as the other rubbed his battered kneecap. Usually their father was as calm and serene as a still pond in a zen garden. But, like everyone, he too had his weaknesses. Few as they were, when he was confronted with them, it was like a boulder had been thrown into that pond. Waves spilling and splashing onto the meticulously drawn gravel patterns, lilly pads and carps flying though the air as the emotions spilled out from him.

His sister opened her mouth to speak but hesitated for a moment before answering. "You're right, I don't know... anything." The whisper of her voice barely managed to carry to Shōta's ears before it was hungrily devoured by the gurgle of the diesel motor.

* * *

 **A/N: Thanks for reading! And thanks to the people who reviewed, favorited and followed! Reviews and constructive criticism are very much appreaciated. Many thanks to rubyxblade for proofreading and editing (Any left-over mistakes are mine). Please go and check out her work as well!**


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